


Under The Four Moons

by arnediadglanduath



Series: Forever And Beyond [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Genre: Despite everything there's still a damn Sith that needs to die, F/M, Guilt, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Pre-Slash to Slash, Slow Build, Things are accomplished despite impossible odds, Warring Sides of the Force, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 69,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/pseuds/arnediadglanduath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <a href="http://s1380.photobucket.com/user/LarcenysInsane/media/utfm%20title_zps0bseuqob.jpg.html"></a><br/><img/><br/></p>
</div>On the cusp of destruction and despair, Obi-Wan manages to reason with and subdue Anakin on Mustafar. Now, with practically the entire Galaxy wanting him dead, Qui-Gon Jinn's former apprentice must decide if he has the strength and resilience to save his former apprentice from the temptation of the Dark Side, despite his resentments of what he has done. Can he save the Chosen One before he destroys himself? Or is is it already too late?
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Obi-Wan’s heart was-for the lack of a better word-breaking.

Standing on his precarious lava skiff, bracing himself for support and surrounded by molten rock, the only thing that was going through his mind was that it wasn’t supposed to be this way. His padawan- _his_ padawan-wasn’t supposed to have killed countless younglings and Jedi in a heartless act of insurrection. Anakin was the Chosen One, Qui-Gon had said so, and he had hardly ever known his former Master to be wrong. His soul ached at the thought of how many countless times he had sent his young padawan to speak with Chancellor Palpatine unaccompanied, how he had ignored the obvious unrest that had begun to fester in Anakin’s facial expressions and words. He hadn’t trained him for this….hadn’t brought him up to become the one who would lead the fall of the Jedi. Blocking another vicious swing from his opponent’s lightsaber, Obi-Wan tried to reign in the despair that was threatening to overcome his concentration. Anakin’s face was a mask of hateful focus, his eyes devoid of anything that might herald the presence of the loyal Jedi that had once been.

“I have failed you Anakin, I have failed you!” he shouted as they were thrust away from each other by a volcanic rock that jutted out of the water like an ominous spear.

“I should have known the Jedi were planning to take over!” was the furious response.

“Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is _evil_!” Obi-Wan fumed. “Why can’t you see that?! He played on the fears he knew you had!” The dark, fevered light in his apprentice’s eyes faded for a moment, and Anakin teetered on his droid collector as his focus was thrown. Seeing his opportunity, the older Jedi pressed him further. “Think! You told him everything about yourself! Your dreams, your worries-” he threw his saber up to block a vicious upspray of lava. “-He knows everything about you, and he’ll tell you anything to convince you that he’s on your side but he is _not!”_

“You’re lying!”

“I’ve known you since you were a little boy!” the older Jedi cried. “I practically raised you! I love you like a brother, you know me! Why in the world would I fall victim to something like this fabricated overthrow that Palpatine has poisoned your mind with?!”

“He’s the only one who can help me save Padme!” Anakin said, his voice cracking as his mood shifted into hysterics. Slowly, his lightsaber was beginning to lower itself as his resolve waned. “Together, we’re going to find a way to help people not to die, so there won’t be anymore suffering and pain!”

“Oh, Anakin” Obi-wan said tiredly. “There’s never been anyone who could avoid death in the end. Palpatine fears death, just as you do. I have told you and Yoda has told you, the people who leave us are absorbed into the Force, they are never truly gone. Someday, I’ll die too, and so will you. We can’t stop it, it’s a natural process.”

As he spoke, his skiff bumped into the blackened edge of a high lava bend slope. Quickly, he threw himself away from the stifling hot waters and brought up his lightsaber in preparation for defense. The attack never came. Anakin remained standing on the droid collector, his face blank and devoid of emotion. Around him, the fires of Mustafar raged, throwing a strange and unearthly halo about his deceptively thin frame. Then, as if waking from a terrible dream, the young man’s face crumbled into an expression of utter agony. His light saber fell out of his hand and onto the bank, sheathing itself automatically. Anakin lifted his hands in front of him, palms facing his visage, the look on his face practically suggesting that they were drenched in blood. Summoning the Force, Obi-Wan curled his fingers subtly, watching as his Padawan’s former lightsaber flew into his outstretched palm. Tucking the item into the holster in his tunic, he returned his gaze to the conflicted individual before him.

“It’s too late” Anakin muttered, almost to himself. “What I’ve done…it can’t be forgiven. Nobody in their right mind would let me within arm’s reach of a lightsaber ever again.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward cautiously, aware that even though the younger man was disarmed, he was no less dangerous.

“You have committed terrible crimes against the People and the Jedi alike” he said tonelessly. “Yoda himself has ordered your death.”

“Then do it” Anakin said harshly, meeting his eyes for the first time. “Kill me. I welcome it.”

“It is against the Jedi Code to kill an unarmed individual” Obi-Wan murmured, raising his hand once more.

Anakin’s eyes rolled back into his head as the Sleep Command his former Master had enacted took its full effect. Obi-Wan barely managed to catch him before he fell backwards into the fiery, volcanic inferno. Summoning what strength he had left, he dragged the young man’s prone form onto the rocky bank, taking a moment to ensure that he would stay asleep while he fetched the still-unconscious Padme from the landing platform and transferred her to the star skiff’s medical suite via Med Unit. He then used the same Med Unit to get Anakin, and placed him in the small but functional holding cell just off the cockpit. Once he was sure that everything was as secure as it could be, he instructed C-3PO to take off, but to only fly as far as to be away from any planetary sensors. Soon, Mustafar was nothing but a distant speck on the radar, disappearing as the planet exceeded the navigational proximity detector’s maximum scope.

Only then did Obi-Wan sit back and put his head in his hands, taking a deep breath and centering himself in order to determine the best course of action. Padme needed immediate medical attention that neither the medical droid aboard the ship nor he could provide. Anakin needed help and healing of a kind that he wasn’t sure he could accomplish on his own, if it was possible at all. Still, he was almost sure that Yoda would want to put Anakin in a cell and throw away the key. Part of him whispered that he deserved it, that his actions had led him to this point, and it was time for the young man to learn the consequences of his actions without his Master shielding him from the woes of the world. Still, yet another, more traitorous part of himself whispered that Anakin was tortured and hurting. He was deceived and manipulated and what he needed was peace, friendship, and perhaps some time away from the life of the Jedi.

_“To bring criminals to justice, the responsibility of a Jedi is”_ Yoda’s voice whispered in his mind.

“Oh, Qui-Gon” Obi-Wan murmured. “What would you do if you were here?” R2-D2 beeped something that sounded vaguely sympathetic, but the weary Jedi Master didn’t deign to acknowledge the little droid. His resolve strengthening, he busied himself inserting coordinates that would coincide with what he was planning. “3PO, plot a course to Vortex” he said roughly. “We need another ship.”

“Are you sure about this, Master Kenobi?” the protocol droid commented. “Miss Padme appears to be in very poor condition.”

“I want you and R2 to fly Padme to the Polis Massa Base to meet with Master Yoda. I will take Anakin elsewhere in a ship provided by the Vors.” He paused, a thought swiftly occurring to him. Turning back to the consul, he typed out a swift message and transferred it to R2D2’s memory file. “Give that to Senator Organa, and Organa _only.”_

“Oh, Master Kenobi” C3PO said in his querulous voice as he prepped the hyperdrive. “I _do_ hope you know what you’re doing.”

Swiveling in his seat to face the vortex of stars before him, Obi-Wan set his mouth in a grim line.

“So do I 3PO….so do I….”


	2. Skies and Sorrow

The Vor weren’t particularly welcoming, but they didn’t generally show any emotion whatsoever so Obi-Wan didn’t let it concern him. He checked and double-checked C-3PO’s navigational coordinates, even though the protocol droid indignantly informed him that the chances of him making an error en route were less than 0.0009 percent. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, it was the fact that he’d be damned if he was known as the Jedi who lost one of Naboo’s favorite Senators in the depths of space. Before he disembarked with Anakin-whom he hit with another wave of Forcesleep, just to be safe-he transferred Padme to the Med Unit so R2D2 could electronically navigate the mobile bed into the base once they arrived. The little astromech droid took a moment to stand by Anakin, who Obi-Wan had put on an antigrav gurney, and beeped sadly for a minute or two before returning to the ship. As he watched the silver skiff take off, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not telling them that he wouldn’t be seeing either mech for possibly a very, very long time. 

The weather on Vor was unwelcoming; windy though not unduly cold. A magistrate led them to a hangar with several small vessels, and Obi-Wan made sure to ask for a ship with a holding cell. As confident as he was in his abilities with the Force, he didn’t know what methods Anikin might use to bring himself out of unconsciousness. The ship in question was fashioned much like the larger models he had caught a glimpse of in a different section of the hangar, reminiscent of a clone Z-95 fighter, but with wings that swept upwards and a ‘tail’ end section that might have been fashioned after the physiology of the flight-capable Vor themselves. Once his former Padawan was secure in the hold, the Vor presented him with a droid that was capable of flying the complex ship, as Obi-Wan did not read the Vortexlex command keys that came with the vessel. 

“I will make sure your ship is returned once I reach my destination” the Jedi assured the magistrate as they watched several droids pull the ship out onto the landing pad. 

A few minutes later, he boarded the ship and made his way to the cockpit, watching apprehensively as the surface of Vortex dwindled beneath him. The piloting droid in question was a simpler model from times gone past, and he was sure he could reconfigure it to erase the specs of his navigation once it was time to return the vessel to its point of origin. For a few minutes, Obi-Wan deliberated on his choice of destination. Originally, he had thought he might return to Coruscant and securing lodgings in the Underworld so he could keep track of the actions of the Senate. After some time, he’d decided that this probably wasn’t the best course of action, as Darth Sidious would likely be able to sense Anikin’s presence in the city. In the end, he decided on Tatooine. It was probably not the best choice, but he had an inkling that Anakin might feel more grounded in a place that was familiar. 

Tatooine was pretty much on the other side of the Galaxy from Vortex, but Obi-Wan took the long way around, preferring to stay clear of any major trade routes. He ran into some trouble when he came dangerously close to invading Hutt space, but thanks to his close attention to Anakin’s occasional subversion into Huttese when he was angry, he managed to talk his way out of the situation. It wasn’t until he was passing Kamino that he ran into a real problem. He had just adjusted the thrusters when the navigational droid shrieked a warning at the same time as a tremendous blast hit the hull. As the klaxons began to blare, Obi-Wan stumbled to the Main Controls, eyes frantically scanning the readings as the ship informed him that his shields had been blown. Activating the rear-facing cameras he disengaged the autopilot and rolled the craft to avoid a second barrage of laser fire. The thrusters screamed against such a virulent use of the controls-such a large ship wasn’t made for complicated evasive maneuvers-but he transferred a portion of external power to the core in order to compensate for the excess of propulsive force. 

Obi-Wan’s limited view of his pursuers wasn’t comforting. From what he could see, four ARC-170s were tracking his movements, echoing any maneuvers he performed in order to line themselves up for an accurate shot. He allowed himself a moment to berate himself for flying so close to Kamino. Of course Palpatine would have stationed clone troopers to patrol the skies surrounding the planet, it was his main source of troops for the war, and as long as his name was registered in any ships database, he was a target. He might as well have been flying a potato with his face stamped across the front, a giant target in the middle of his forehead. Even as he pulled back on the joystick to drop himself out of the line of fire, he knew he was going to have a hard time coming out of this one with all his limbs intact. 

Thinking furiously, he fired a few blasts out of the rear-mounted cannons and rolled again, gritting his teeth as the ship shook dangerously. He was going to have to land and ditch the vessel, hopefully fast enough that he could get it back out of orbit before the starfighters realized he had evacuated it. Shouting at the droid to activate the hyper drive, he felt a grim sense of satisfaction as his last shot caused one of the fighters to spin away, dropping out of the chase with a wing smoking ominously. Still, he wasn’t able to give himself time to rejoice over his small victory. As his pursuers disappeared into streaks of warp-initiated nothingness, Tattooine slammed into his specs with a force that left him momentarily breathless. The klaxons continued unabated, warning him that despite the fact that he had given the starfighters the slip, they could still trace him through the engine signature. 

Operating without thought, Obi-Wan dived towards the planet’s surface, all-too aware that this last move could either make or break his desired goal. Once they were close enough to the shrouded, sand-covered dunes, he lowered the landing platform and activated the anti-grav gurney, tearing into the hold to retrieve Anakin and float the bed out and under a small outcropping of rock. Giving the droid a series of clipped and precise commands, he rolled out of the ship and watched it take off, trying to feel as regretless as possible for its inevitable fate. Better that Sidious thought him dead than escaped. If he had to sacrifice one ship and one droid in order to ensure that he wasn’t pursued, he couldn’t let that weigh on his conscience. 

Once he was somewhat confident that his ploy had worked, Obi-Wan set out across the desert sands with the gurney in tow. He was fairly sure that he had landed a few miles South of Mos Eisley, and he wanted to at least secure the two of them some lodgings before he could allow himself to rest. Even with the Force buoying his resilience, he was all-too aware of the bone-deep exhaustion that permeated his limbs. He hadn’t slept since his departure from Coruscant, and his constant state of wakefulness was beginning to catch up with him. This, of course, was where he ran into yet another problem. He didn’t have any money, and any credits he might have carried would be useless in any case. Wistfully, he almost wished he had kept the droid provided him by the Vors and traded it for some truguts. He didn’t like the idea of gambling or placing any bets, as the only things he had to barter with were his lightsaber, or Anakin, and he didn’t exactly relish the idea of losing either of them. He was fairly sure his former padawan wouldn’t take kindly to being sold back into slavery after all this time. A faint ripple of amusement, bolstered by the Force, snaked across the underdregs of his psyche and he gasped as he recognized the bright and vibrant undertones of his apprentice. 

_“….Anakin?”_

As quickly as it had come, it was gone, and even as Obi-Wan stretched curious tendrils of consciousness through the empty Bond, all he encountered was a distant murmuring, then a bleak darkness…then nothing. Sighing, he cast a wistful and slightly bitter glance back at the anti-grav unit, then continued to plow forward. The sands of Tatooine were unforgiving, whipping across his face and finding their way into even the most covered recesses of his robes. Still, he reached Mos Eisley before nightfall and found himself at a large Trade Unit, where he secured himself ownership of a small moisture farm outside the city limits. It was a stroke of luck that the farm in question had recently been evacuated by its rent-paying inhabitants…rather they had been slaughtered by Tuskan Raiders and the owner of the farm was looking for someone who would operate it and pay dividends in exchange for shelter. It sported a small hydroponic garden, though the landlord confessed that most of its amenities had been raided by the Sand People. It would take several days before the facility was able to be fully functional again, The landlord in question was a Hutt named Whoerpis Krolrol. Unlike some of his kind, his interest was mostly in commerce and trade, and while Obi-Wan was loathe to make any kind of business venture with a Hutt, he didn’t sense that he had any intentions other than to further his monetary gains. The farm was free as long as he could care for it and provide rent, which he would earn through his work. 

Whoerpis supplied them with the necessary items to get the farm up and running again, along with two droid patch-in units to operate the water vaporators. In exchange for the anti-grav unit, he also provided Obi-Wan with two Bantha, a male and a female, which the Jedi Master then used to make his way to the farm under the setting of the suns. He was happy to see that the farm’s security access door still worked, and that the only way into the living quarters was through the main dome. Once he had secured the Banthas in a makeshift paddock and supplied them with a meager repast of water and food, he carried Anakin to the homestead and into one of the sleeping lofts. He would have to wake him up so he could eat and drink, but he wanted to take stock of what the farm had to offer before he worried about anything else. 

A map of the homestead laid out on a table in the kitchen showed that he had about thirty vaporators to check on in the morning, two of which required maintenance. The hydroponic garden was to the left of the main dome, and from what he had seen the damage was extensive. There were two sleeping lofts, a kitchen, dining room, living area, and a small tech dome. All in all, it was a small but efficient structure, and Obi-Wan was sure he could make good use of its amenities. He had used a fake name to secure lodgings, and he doubted that he would encounter any kind of disturbance for some time. Exiting the kitchen, he made his way to the living area and settled onto a weary-looking yellow couch. Tilting his head back, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let himself drift for a moment, acknowledging that in a few minutes he would get up and use the ‘fresher. 

Just as he mustered the determination to have a thorough washing, his communicator beeped. The small sound in the empty space was practically deafening, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Pulling the offending item out of a pocket in his robes, he checked the screen as was pleased to see the message was from Organa. Pressing the necessary commands to decrypt the missive, he was greeted with a short, hastily typed communication that brought his spirits plunging down to the dregs of existence: 

__**Time sent: 22:14  
** Message Received: 22:15  
Content: _Sen Amidala dead; causes: unknown. Children-twins-doing well. Luke, Leia. Reprts suggest obi-wan shot down over tatooine._ **  
End content**

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan swiftly deleted the message. At the same time, there was a dreadful howl from the room he had left Anakin in. Fumbling with the communicator-nearly dropping it in his haste-the Jedi Master launched himself off the couch and rushed towards the source of the sound. Releasing the locks he had placed on the door, he had to duck to avoid a chronometer that was thrown at his head. It hit the mantle above him and shattered, electronic parts scattering all over the floor. Throwing himself to the side, Obi-Wan narrowly avoided the next item-a radio this time-which bounced off the dresser and was united with the chronometer in a similar state. Anakin’s eyes burned a deep yellow, rimmed with red as he crouched in a darkened corner, his lips drawn back in a snarl of hate. 

“You killed her!” he howled, and Obi-Wan had to reign in his reply to avoid a rogue desk lamp flying at high velocity. “I can’t feel her anymore! I know you killed her!”

“Anakin _stop!_ look within yourself! You know it wasn’t me who brought about her end!” Obi-Wan shouted. 

“I should have killed you!” was the terrible reply. “I let you trick me into thinking you could help us!” 

“I tried!” he said desperately. “I sent her to one of the most advanced medical facilities in the galaxy!” 

“You should have let me stay with her! I could have saved her!” To his horror, he watched as Anakin threw his head back against the wall. There was a jarring **_*thump*_** and his nose began to bleed profusely. “I should have _died_ with her!” 

“Stop! Anakin _stop!”_

The tortured man chuckled darkly and threw his head back again; this time, his eyes fluttered as he nearly succumbed to unconsciousness. His fingers curled defensively, and he made to repeat the gesture, but by that time Obi-Wan had thrown himself across the room and grasped his head in both hands, pushing outwards with the Force to meet the roiling Darkness before him head on. Almost immediately, he was accosted with a gasping, coiling sensation of disgust and revulsion. It was like being caught in the grips of a massive snake hell-bent on sucking the life out of his very soul. Anakin’s hatred was a living, breathing entity in his being, roaring with unconstrained desire for revenge and suffering. For a moment, Obi-Wan was very nearly consumed; his apprentice’s rage boiling down the years of painstaking discipline he had tried so hard to maintain. Then, desperately, he struck out in the blackness and the billowing shadow recoiled as if struck before rushing his psyche full force. Grimly, he battled the voidal nothingness with Light, allowing it to seep through the shadow like a permeable mist; rolling into murky corners with a gentle but determined procession. 

Unconscious to the world about him, it felt like hours before Obi-Wan was able to gain an upper hand. The Dark Side of the force retreated, slithering back into the dregs of Anakin’s consciousness. For a while he chased it, forcing it to flit from recess to recess; dancing in and out of his figurative vision before he remembered that it was not he who could vanquish the blackness, but the individual himself. Coming back to the center of his former padawan’s spirit, he was greeted with a bleak, despairing landscape of flickering grey. The sadness and self-loathing within was so profound he nearly forgot what he was doing in the face of Anakin’s grief. Still, he searched, and it was with the most profound relief that he saw it; flickering faintly in the dregs of a tortured soul…the remnants of Light. And he acknowledged with a profound joy and infinite desperation that there was still good in Anakin…there was still hope. 

Enacting yet another Sleep Command, and feeling the need for sleep himself, Obi-Wan withdrew, studying the sleeping face of his apprentice. Weariness practically dripped from his limbs, his head feeling ten times as heavy as it normally did. Still, he didn’t relax until he was sure that the young man wouldn’t wake without him there. Only then did he stumble out of the room and collapse on the couch. And for the first time in many, many years Obi-Wan lay his head down on the rough scratchy surface, and allowed himself to weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I did a considerable amount of research for this chapter. No matter how many maps I referenced, I couldn't find the Polis Masse asteroid base. I don't know how far it was from Mustafar or Void, so I neglected to reference distance. 
> 
> You'll probably notice that I treat Anakin's struggle with the Dark Side much like a multiple personality disorder. I feel like this is the most accurate representation I can formulate, and I do have some knowledge of psychology, so I've decided to go with that method of approach. Presumably, Obi-Wan and his former Padawan would have shared some sort of Bond through his training, and it is through that bond that I believe that Anakin can be helped through this difficult period. 
> 
> I really hope I am living up to my expectations with this, as I have set the bar rather high for myself. Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	3. Another Beginning

When he woke, Obi-Wan was momentarily assaulted by the feeling that comes with returning to consciousness in an unfamiliar place. Stiffening, he reached to the left and relaxed only slightly when he felt the cool, unyielding metal of his lightsaber against his palm. Slowly, the events of the past few days returned to him and he opened his eyes with a sense of apprehension. Sun was spilling in through the top of the homestead, filtering into the living room and onto the couch where he had evidently fallen asleep. Faintly, he could hear the soft whisper of sand skittering across the dusty desert above him; tiny filaments catching in cracks and corners with a soft hissing noise. Around him, the house was silent save for the occasional mechanical beep coming from the droid patch-in units. Sitting up, Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his face and grimaced as he realized he had neglected to use the ‘fresher as he’d originally planned. Determined to rectify the issue, he stood and took off his cloak, making his way to the small washroom located just off the central hub of the living space. 

The shower in question was sonic, but that didn’t particularly surprise him. He’d have liked a proper wash with real water, but Tatooine was incredibly dry and water was practically worth killing over. Once he was clean and re-dressed, Obi-Wan set about finding something to eat, perusing the kitchen for various foodstuffs. There was some bottled ardees, and what he recognized as jerked dewback meat from Anakin’s brief description of cuisine from his childhood. Additionally, a jug of blue milk was stuffed in the back of the cooling unit but he didn’t know how old it was and threw it out immediately. He spied some frozen dustcrepes but let them be for the time-being. A small part of him felt guilty for eating food that had so obviously been kept and stored for others, but at the same time he acknowledged that the previous inhabitants were dead and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. 

After his brief repast Obi-Wan checked briefly on Anakin, who was still deeply asleep and would likely stay that way for a long time, and then exited the main living pit to the surface, map of the farmstead in-hand. Circling ‘round the entry dome, he was pleased to see a small, solar powered land speeder parked behind the circular building. It had obviously seen some wear and tear, and it looked like the Tuscans had attempted to haul it off but it was still veritably intact. He spent a few minutes tinkering with it before he got it up and running. Checking the map once again, he set off along the perimeter; making his way to the first vaporator with the rising suns in front of him. 

As he traveled, he contemplated his goals for the next few days. First and foremost, he needed to talk to Anakin. He couldn’t keep the young man under the influence of Force Sleep for the rest of his days, but a part of him balked at embarking on the long journey that rehabilitating his former padawan required. Equally as important-if not more-was gathering news of the motion of politics since Palpatine had announced his absolute power. Here on Tatooine, inner core news was scarce but he was sure he could find someone who had at least a little knowledge of the comings and goings in the galaxy. Anakin had destroyed the radio, but the older Jedi was fairly confident he could put it back together as fast as he had torn it apart, if he was willing. However, news coming from any electronic source would likely be unreliable, by now broadcast systems would have been placed under the control of the Empire, and therefore regulated by Palpatine’s followers. Something that truly weighed on Obi-Wan’s mind was the matter of Anakin’s children. He knew that revealing their existence to their father was a dangerous thing, but at the same time couldn’t see anything positive that would come of him hiding the truth and revealing it later. Anakin needed to trust him, completely, and in order for that to happen there couldn’t be any secrets between them. Whatever the outcome, he held to a firm belief that a father needed to know the existence of his child-or children, in Anakin’s case-no matter what the circumstances. 

Obi-Wan visited fifteen of the thirty vaporators before it began to get dangerously hot. He didn’t happen upon the two that needed to be repaired, but he hadn’t really expected to until late in the afternoon. Of the famed ‘vaporator mushrooms,’ he found a large amount, enough that he contemplated asking Anakin to make a soup, something he couldn’t do himself. If there was anything his former padawan bested him at, it was cooking. Though looked after by his mother Shmi, they sometimes weren’t home at the same time while Anakin was still a slave. His mother had taught him how to cook for himself should the need arrive, and after tasting the young man’s eopie brisket, Obi-Wan thought she had done a rather fine job of instructing him. Anakin had insisted on fixing it for him on his birthday at the age of ten, proclaiming it to be well worth his while and possibly the _‘best thing he would ever eat’_. 

Obi-Wan watched a duo of scurriers cross his speeder’s path, the only indication he was lost in a fond memory a slight softening around his eyes. Returning to the homestead didn’t take very long, as he went straight from the last vaporator back to the pit. Parking his vehicle where he had found it and engaging the security lock, he hopped down and punched in the code to the entry dome. The doors slid back and he descended, pausing only when he reached the base level, staring directly across into the dining room. Anakin was sitting at the table with his shoulders slumped and his head down, not particularly looking at anything. His posture gave every indication of total defeat, and Obi-Wan felt a pang of sympathy but shoved it down. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions take control of the situation. His former padawan lifted his head as he approached, and the older Jedi was relieved to see that his eyes were their normal, customary shade of deep blue. Obi-Wan made his way to the cooling unit and pulled out two bottles of ardees and a few strips of the dewback jerky for Anakin. Setting his cargo down on the table, he slid into the chair across from the fallen Jedi. For a long moment, neither of them spoke; a thick silence hung in the air that both were less-than-inclined to break. Finally, Obi-Wan relented and mustered his voice. 

“How did you get out of your room, Anakin?”

Only a slight, non-committal jerk of his head gave any indication that the younger man had heard him speak. Anakin didn’t meet his eyes, and for a brief second Obi-Wan thought that he might deign not to answer him. 

“I used the Force” was the muttered reply, voice hoarse from disuse.  
“I don’t want you to do that again” Obi-Wan said firmly. 

“Yes, Master.” 

“I am not your Master anymore” he said bitterly. “And if I ever was, I was a very poor one.” When he received no reiteration, he sighed and sat back, unscrewing the cap of his ardees and taking a sip. “Anakin, you need to understand that I’m in a very difficult position here.” 

“What are you going to do with me?” was the response, and it reminded him so painfully of when Anakin was a child that he fisted his hand to prevent it from reaching across the table. 

“I don’t know” he said, shaking his head almost unconsciously. “But, I would like to hear your side of the story.” 

This got a reaction. Anakin tensed and his head shot up while his jaw jutted forward, his teeth clenching. For a moment, Obi-Wan thought he was going to lose his temper, but he remained as he was. 

“What good will that do?!” he spat. “I’m practically damned, the Order wants me dead, my wife _is_ dead! What could you possibly gain from hearing what I have to say?!” 

Obi-Wan relented a bit.

“I am truly, truly sorry about Padme” he said, gentling his tone. “She didn’t deserve her fate, to be sure. I counted her a true friend, she was a good person with good intentions for the Republic. I can’t possibly begin to imagine the grief you are feeling at her loss.” 

“It was my fault” Anakin retorted. “I…I _broke_ her.” His voice wavered. “I was only trying to save her.” 

“Anakin, people aren’t like machines. You can’t reprogram them to do what you want, and when you hurt them, you can…damage them beyond repair.” Obi-Wan folded his hands in front of him on the tabletop. “I ask for your side of the story because I am truly trying to understand you. I can’t help you if I don’t fully comprehend your emotions, it’s where I failed before, and I don’t want to fail again.” 

The younger man was silent for a moment as he contemplated what had been said. Obi-Wan busied himself with his drink as the man opposite him collected his thoughts. 

“…Where do you want me to start?” he finally said, his voice barely audible.

“When did you and Padme get married?” 

Anakin flinched, as if the mere reminder of such a time was unbearably painful. 

“We-” he began, then cleared his throat and appeared to collect himself. “-We married just after the Clone Wars began, when I escorted P-when I escorted her back to Naboo.”

“Two years then” Obi-Wan murmured, quickly figuring the math. “…Didn’t you…stop and think, Anakin?”

“Of course we did” was the harsh response, then he appeared to relent. “We did, but…neither of us wanted to pretend we didn’t love each other anymore.” 

“And what prompted you to swear your…allegiance to Palpatine?” 

Obi-Wan sensed rather than saw Anakin withdraw into himself. When he spoke again, it was as if he was remembering something distant and forgotten. 

“I started having visions…of Padme dying in childbirth. I told Lord Sidious about them, and he told me that his Master had found out a way to save people from death. He said that if we worked together, we would be able to stop her from dying.” 

“…And the Jedi you killed? The younglings?” 

This time, Anakin took a long time to answer, and his grief was palpable.

“Palpatine…he convinced me that the Jedi weren’t letting me progress because I was too close to him. He said that they didn’t trust me, because they didn’t trust him, and they were planning to overthrow him.” He took a deep breath. “Mace Windu, he had subdued the Chancellor, and was _going_ to kill him.” Looking squarely at Obi-Wan for the first time, the older Jedi could see the truth in the young man’s statement. “I _begged_ him not to do it, but he wouldn’t listen! I told him it wasn’t the Jedi way, that he had to face trial. When he went to deliver the killing blow I-I cut off his arm. I thought that would be enough, but then Palpatine attacked him with Force Lightning and he was thrown off the Tower.” He looked suddenly miserable. “I didn’t kill him, I wasn’t trying to. I was just trying to uphold the Jedi Code…and…” he hesitated and swallowed. “…And I truly thought he was the only one who could help me.” 

“I believe you” Obi-Wan said calmly. When the younger man didn’t speak again, he egged him on. “Continue.”

“When I saw Windu try to kill an unarmed man, I was sure that Palpatine was telling the truth. And then when I saw his power, I was afraid-afraid that if I didn’t swear my allegiance to him he would kill me, or kill Padme. I thought killing the Jedi was the right thing to do…but the younglings…” he took a deep shuddering breath. “There is no excuse” he said harshly, seeming to pull himself short. “I won’t make excuses for it.”

“Still, I want to hear your reasoning” Obi-Wan said tonelessly.

Looking almost resentful, Anakin continued to speak.

“Palpatine…I thought….he wanted me to prove myself. It was the only way he would teach me to save Padme.” 

“And the Separatists?”

“That was easy” was the scornful reply. “They threatened Padme and they threatened Naboo, they were easy to kill.” 

“But you acted on orders?”

“Yes” was the short reply. “But it didn’t hurt me to do it.” 

Once again, there was silence between them. Obi-Wan was conflicted. He had seen the remnants of Light in Anakin the evening before, but with the memory of everything that had happened rushing back with their conversation, it was hard not to be subjective. Staring at the grey steel of the countertop, he made a tumultuous effort to discipline his thoughts. Anakin was once again looking off at nothing in particular, his eyes hunted and his expression weary beyond his years. Sun-high had passed, and Obi-Wan wanted to check the rest of the vaporators-if only to have some time to himself-but he acknowledged that their conversation wasn’t over, not until they had reached some kind of common ground. 

“I’m going to make this plain for you, Anakin. The likelihoods of you ever wielding a lightsaber again are slim to none.” 

“I don’t want to be a Jedi anymore” was the bitter response. “Look where it’s gotten me.” 

“Nevertheless, you are still trained in the ways of the Force, whether you wield the weapon of the Jedi or not, and that alone is a powerful tool. I can’t take it from you anymore than I can take away what you have done.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “You need to regain your Balance, and the only way you can do that is by using the Force. The ways of the Jedi are in your blood, you can’t walk away from it and you can never unlearn it.”

“What do you want me to do?” Anakin asked despairingly. 

“I want you to meditate, as much as you can” he said firmly, and for the first time since he had introduced his former padawan to the practice, he wasn’t met with a complaint. “The source of your fall was your fear of loss, and in order to overcome your fear, you need to understand it. You need to learn to let go, to live with the knowledge that there are things that are beyond your control.” He leaned forward. “Anakin, the most important thing you can be in control of is yourself, and _only_ yourself.” He pushed back his seat and rose, pulling the vaporator mushrooms he had found out of his pocket and placing them on the kitchen counter. “I found some dustcrepes in the cooling unit, do you think you could make a stew?”

Anakin remained sitting for a moment, looking surprised by the change of subject. After a minute, he rose and joined Obi-Wan in the kitchen, reaching up to rifle through the cabinets.

“If there’s negamo…” he muttered, pushing a stack of horridly patterned plates to the side. After a moment, he paused and pulled his hand back, a small container of what looked like seasoning in the palm of his hand. He bounced it pensively for a moment, then spoke once more. “Do we have any water?

“There’s a few dew condenser jars out front” Obi wan replied, leaning against the counter. 

“I only need one” Anakin murmured, picking up a mushroom and inspecting it. “What about my meditation?”

“The idea of you accessing the Force with the Dark Side still so prominent in your psyche makes me faintly nauseous” Obi-Wan said dryly, shrugging into his robe. “Wait for me to come back. Eat that jerky, Anakin. Work on the soup.” He paused. “I’m the only one with the security access code to the door, I will know if you use the Force to open it.” 

The young man nodded absentmindedly, already eyeing the ancient-looking range with an expression of apprehension. Obi-Wan retrieved the collecting unit from one of the jars and then left Anakin to his own devices. He took one of the droid patch-in units with him this time, and it was lucky he did, as the one paired with the fourth vaporator he came across was damaged beyond repair. He replaced it, and spent a few minutes attempting to recalibrate the system before realizing that it would need a new telemetry cone entirely. He gathered whatever spare parts he thought could be of use and continued to work his way down the line. The second damaged vaporator was an easy fix; one of the chiller bars had been knocked off-center and it only took Obi-Wan a few minutes to resituate it. By the time he was finished, the suns were setting and the customary everyday heat of the desert had waned considerably. After returning to the pit, Obi-Wan took a few minutes to investigate the hydroponic garden. It looked like someone had been trying to grow hubba gourds, but their plans had been cut short by the raiders. The plants remaining were all doing rather poorly. There was evidence of an overhead irrigation system, and further inspection provided clues to an automatic watering configuration, but the pipes were broken and the vaporator that had served as a well was dry, the machine itself practically unrecognizable. The garden itself was partially surrounded by a glass dome with octagonal planes, though the majority of them had been smashed, and Obi-Wan didn’t know if he had the money to repair it on his meager salary. Still, he made an effort to clean up the glass and other broken items. 

By the time he had finished night had truly fallen. After watering and feeding the banthas, Obi-Wan locked the door and descended into the central living area. Anakin was nowhere to be seen, but the soft hiss coming from the ‘fresher indicated he was using the shower. There was a covered saucepan on the table along with two bowls and spoons. It looked like Anakin had managed to find the ingredients to make flatbread, and two bottles of ardees were resting on the kitchen counter. Taking advantage of his momentary solidarity, Obi-Wan flipped open his communicator, but didn’t have any messages. Sighing, he shrugged out of his cloak and slung it over the back of the yellow couch and shoved the device back into his pocket. At the same time the shower shut off and the Jedi Master busied himself with setting out the bowls and dolling out soup. A few minutes later, Anakin joined him fully dressed and they occupied the same chairs as before. They ate dinner in silence, though Obi-Wan could tell that the younger man was itching to ask him something. Somehow, he had managed to make the soup taste like it was made at the Clarendox, and the Jedi Master enjoyed it immensely. When they had finished, by silent agreement Obi-Wan did the dishes while Anakin cleared the table. 

“You have something you want to ask me” he remarked, watching as Anakin transferred the remaining soup to a storage container and placed it in the cooling unit. Caught off-guard, the younger man faltered and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Anakin” he said gently. “We can’t have any secrets between us if we’re going to make any progress.” 

Anakin nodded and swallowed nervously.

“I wondered….” he began quietly, then cleared his throat. “I wondered about the baby. Did it…did it…?” he trailed off and clenched his fists. 

Obi-Wan sighed and shook out the dishtowel he was using. 

“You have two children, Anakin. A boy and a girl, their names are Luke and Leia.” 

Blue eyes widened at his confession, and the young man seemed close to weeping with relief before he gripped the kitchen counter, staring down at the chrome surface.

“They survived” he breathed, then whipped his head back around. “Two, you said?” Obi-Wan nodded. “Where are they?” he demanded. 

“I don’t know” Obi-Wan said calmly. 

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?!” was the snapped response. 

“I mean exactly what I said” the Jedi Master said levelly. “When I brought you here, I gave up all means of communication to anyone who might trace our whereabouts except for Organa, and he only told me their genders and what their names are.” 

“Then we have to find them!” 

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan turned to face his former apprentice and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I want you to listen very carefully” he said gently. “You’re in no condition to take care of a child, let alone _two_ children. Wherever they are, they are safe. You need to focus on taking care of yourself.” 

For a moment, it seemed as if Anakin would argue. His jaw clenched and his fingers curled into fists. Then, just as suddenly, he deflated. 

“It doesn’t matter” he muttered. “Even if I were to raise them, we’d always have to be in hiding. That’s no life for a child. They’ll grow up and learn that I killed their mother and slaughtered the galaxy’s most prominent protectors. If I ever get to meet them, they’ll hate me.” 

“You don’t know that” Obi-Wan replied. Removing his hand, he turned and wiped off the dining room table. “Come, we need to get started on your meditation if we’re going to do it before midnight.”

“I don’t know if I can do it” was the miserable reply, and he raised a brow.

“I’ll help you.” 

They moved from the kitchen to the living room, and Obi-Wan pushed a coffee table off a round, brightly patterned rug so they could sit in the middle of it. Motioning for Anakin to proceed, he then sat cross-legged and the young man echoed his movements, facing across from him. Placing his hands on his knees, palms-up he took a deep breath and prepared to speak.

“Try and empty your mind.”

“I-”

“Just _try_ Anakin.” His mouth in a thin line, Anakin closed his eyes and copied Obi-Wan’s posture. The Jedi Master watched for a moment, taking in the sensations of the Force around them. It took a few minutes, but there was a subtle shift in the air that indicated that the young man had found his center. “Good” he said quietly, and only the slightest twitch of an eyebrow indicated that he had been heard. “Focus on the world around you, and on the feelings that are resonating inside you.” 

For a time, everything was still, then Anakin gasped.

“It _burns”_ he wheezed.   
“I’m going to join you now” Obi-Wan said swiftly, closing his eyes and tapping in to the melodic undulations of the Force.

He let himself drift for a moment, acknowledging the passive silence in his soul before reaching out through the Bond and combining their consciousnesses. For a moment there was nothing, only a whispering, sedated sense of nonchalance. Then Anakin’s feelings slammed into him full-force and he dug in aggressively, buoying himself against the despair and confusion. Sensing his presence, his former padawan’s mind had latched onto him like a lifeline, screaming for release from the torment that poured in a black current from the recesses of his psyche. 

_‘Focus, Anakin!’_ he shouted. _I cannot drive the darkness back, you have to do it!_

There was a pause, and a sensation of despair as Anakin’s mind communicated its inability to render itself serene. Gently, Obi-Wan nudged the small spark of Light he had seen the previous night, pointing him in the right direction. The former Jedi seemed to hesitate before casting off from his tether and moving towards the source. Floating in a kind of somnolent limbo, the other man was forced to watch as his apprentice’s shadow disappeared. After a few minutes, he began to fear something had gone terribly wrong, that Anakin had gotten lost in the Dark, but then he watched as the Light grew gradually larger; moving back towards him with his unconscious accompaniment pushing it. When he was close enough, Obi-Wan reached out and joined them together, watching with a faint sense of pride as Anakin moved into the bright space. 

_Now…”_ he continued. _I want you to focus on the darkness around us. Push it back, I will help you._

Together, they began to work at clearing out the blackness. It was slow, mind-bending work that seemed almost more trouble than it was worth. Twice, Anakin nearly lost the flicker of Light he was hanging on to, but each time he brought it back with a calm but determined focus. Finally, after what seemed like hours, they were staring out at the veins of the Light Side of the Force. Tendrils of vibrant color rushed past them; resembling stellar nurseries with long lines of unfettered brilliance. Obi-Wan reveled in it, allowing his mind to expand along the peaceful nuances of the pseudo-nebula. Anakin remained where he was, but the older man could sense the profound calm emanating from his soul.   
Time was suspended as they floated within the confines of the Force, dropping away from significance. It had been a long time since either of them had meditated, though Obi-Wan suspected that for Anakin it had been much longer. He seemed almost lost to the world, empty of anything but relief and contentment. 

After a time, Obi-Wan grudgingly accepted that it was time to return to the real world. He let Anakin go first, as he didn’t relish the thought of his former apprentice left to float in the Darkness with no one to guide him out. Once he was sure he had returned to the land of the living, Obi-Wan centered himself and rose through the levels of consciousness to return to the present time. Anakin’s eyes were still closed, but it was clear he wasn’t meditating. Instead he appeared immeasurably tired, preferring to rest on his hands with his head tilted to the side.

“I’d forgotten how it feels” he murmured. 

Obi-Wan felt a small smile tug at the edges to his lips.

“How long had it been?”

“Over a year” he replied. Blue eyes opened to stare across at him. “I was always rubbish at meditating. After we stopped doing it together I couldn’t center myself.”

“You could have told me.”

Anakin sighed. 

“I wanted to prove myself to you. If I couldn’t accomplish a task as simple as meditating, how was I ever going to becoming a good Jedi?” 

“You’d be surprised to know that a good many Jedi struggle to meditate” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Master Fisto often meditated with Mace Windu, he found the lack of water in Coruscant disrupted his ability to communicate with the Force.”

“I never knew that.” 

The older man smiled wryly.

“You never asked.” 

A silence stretched between them. 

“I think I’m going to go to bed” Anakin remarked, bracing his hands and hauling himself up. 

Obi-Wan nodded his assent.

“Thank you for dinner.”

The younger man paused and raised a brow.

“Obi-Wan, you’ve always been hopeless at cooking. It was the least I could do, for both of us.”

The Jedi Master watched his former padawan’s progress back to his rooms with amusement. It wasn’t until the door had firmly shut behind Anakin that he allowed himself a small chuckle. Losses had been suffered on both sides, but maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random Definitions:**
> 
> Ardees-essentially, jawa juice. Made from bantha hides smashed with fermented grains.  
> Blue Milk-milk from a female bantha   
> Dustcrepe-dry bread with a filling of herbivore meat.   
> Clarendox-a high-class restaurant on Coruscant. 
> 
> **Author’s Note:** I actually had to write about half of this chapter twice. My computer shut down while I was in the middle of it, and it didn’t autosave anything. I was also working on the third to last chapter of my other fic, and that’s been lost too but I have yet to begin working on it again. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading!
> 
> **R &R**


	4. Don't Slip Away

Within a week, they had fallen into somewhat of a routine.

Obi-Wan checked the vaporators every other day and occasionally ventured into Mos Eisley for supplies and food. Whoerpis Krolrol sent his paycheck out at the end of the week, along with a short voice recording thanking him for his hard work. He managed the exterior of the homestead, which was soon looking as well cared-for as any dwelling in the middle of a desert could possibly be, and any spare electronic parts he managed to salvage he saved for Anakin to toy around with. The man in question did his part by cleaning, cooking, managing electronic repairs and upgrades, and monitoring the state of the vaporators through the residence’s security feed. Anakin had-as Obi-Wan expected-repaired the radio within two days of it being broken; but the news that came from it was disheartening, biased, and catered towards the Sith’s regime. The Jedi Master reluctantly resigned himself to the fact that he would have to venture out socially, something he had stringently avoided doing. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked the idea of having to talk to someone, it was the fact that Anakin wasn’t in any frame of mind to engage in anything remotely ‘mission oriented’, and he felt guilty for going out and seeking the companionship of others when his former padawan would have to stay at home. 

Already, the young man was showing signs of restlessness and boredom. Twice, Obi-Wan had had to stop him from rewiring the entire homestead.. Once because he couldn’t get enough power to jump-start an old generator, and the other had something to do with recalibrating the fridge so it could tell him exactly what was inside it at all times; Obi-Wan had firmly decided not to pursue the matter on that one. The garage had quickly turned into a workshop for the former Jedi and every time he ventured into it something was beeping, talking, or flying about the ceiling. Suddenly, they had an electric toaster with a horrendous attitude that liked to argue about everything from politics to space transport regulations, a dishwasher that didn’t like anything but Zeltronian detergent, and there was a particular armchair in the living room that complained loudly if anyone sat on it for more than five minutes. Obi-Wan had put his foot down when he’d come home to see a droid the size of a krayt-dragon brushing the banthas. 

“You know I’m not happy unless I’m building something” Anakin protested as they watched the banthas charge about the paddock in a panic. 

“Yes, but could you at least make something _practical?”_ Obi-Wan begged him. “I’ve seen your latest project, and we don’t need a flying service droid that sings Miracle Meriko.” Anakin continued to look stubborn and the older man sighed. “I need a translator, if you can manage that in your free time.” 

“…What language?”

“Preferably as many as you can program into it” was the dry reply. 

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Nowhere off-planet” Obi-Wan said tiredly. “I need information on Palpatine. Even you know that what we’re getting from the radio isn’t reliable.” 

Anakin was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the horizon in quiet contemplation.

“You said that Master Yoda went after him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but by all accounts, I have to assume that he failed in his endeavor. We would know if Darth Sidious was dead.”

“…Does that mean that Yoda is….?” 

“No. When I transferred you and Padme from Mustafar, I received word that Yoda was waiting for us on the medical base. I can only assume that he recognized that it was a fight he could not win, at least for the moment.” He ran a hand over his beard. “Yoda would not back away from a fight that had even the slightest margin of his success, not unless it meant allowing his own to die, as it did when he fought Dooku. He never draws his lightsaber unless the issue is of utmost gravity, and he does not admit defeat unless all other avenues of confrontation are lost.” 

“He’d probably like to see me dead” was the idle response, as if they were talking of the weather. 

Obi-Wan raised a brow.

“Revenge is not part of the Jedi Code, Anakin. Someone as enlightened as Yoda is past such petty motives.” 

“…Are you?”

The Jedi Master looked away, shielding his eyes against the blinding heat of the desert sun. 

“…It seems when it comes to you I am incapable of anything but shunting you around and making excuses for every error you perform. I am thoroughly convinced that if you managed to somehow raze the galaxy to ruins I would still be hopelessly incapable of doing anything but spoiling you.” 

“I didn’t realize meditation fell into the concept of ‘spoiling.’”

“There’s a difference between punishment and discipline. Right now, almost every right-minded person in the galaxy wants to see you punished; but I’m convinced that I can help you, sans punishment.”

“Obi-Wan, I think you’re over thinking this.”  
“You’ve killed dozens of Jedi and I’ve put you in a hole in the ground and kept you fed, comfortable, and somewhat entertained.” Anakin snorted and he raised an eyebrow. “Alright, _barely_ entertained, but I’m sure you see where I’ve had cause to second-guess myself many a time.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this.” 

“No, you didn’t, and I suppose that’s the small truth that tells me I’m doing the right thing.” ______________________________________________________________________________________  
In the end, Obi-Wan found an Aqualish politician seeking refuge at a run-down inn on the Eastern side of Mos Eisley. It took him a few days, and a considerable amount of meditation, but the Force was prevalent in the end. The Aqualish in question had a name that was virtually unpronounceable in Standard, but the closest thing that Obi-Wan could manage sounded rather like _‘Darulon’-_ which was probably the furthest from correct as Tatooine was from Coruscant-but it made the politician chuckle and that was really all the opening he needed. They settled themselves in a corner of the inn, and Obi-Wan ordered them drinks. Using a false name, he explained that he was a tradesman from Stewjon with a route that would eventually lead him to Coruscant. Darulon urgently pleaded with him to stay away from the city, and he learned that Palpatine had indeed taken control of the Senate and declared himself Emperor, but wasn’t often there. He was away working on a widely speculated ‘secret project’ though Darulon couldn’t say what it was, only that it was supposed to be dangerous. It was asking about the project that had nearly gotten him killed, and he’d only managed to escape by pure stroke of luck. 

“Word has it that Darth Sidious; apprentice died in battle with a Jedi” Darulon said in a staged whisper. “Said he died on Mustafar, but the troopers who went with him said there wasn’t any sign of a body.” 

“The Troopers are still actively reinforcing his regime?” 

“Of course they are! You wouldn’t believe the amount of opposition they’ve had to hush up in the Senate!" 

Of course, he wasn’t talking about outright opposition-that was a fast way to die-but the behind-the-scenes cell-oriented resistance. There were groups dedicated to the restoration of the Republic, but their numbers were small and their resources dwindling. Darth Sidious had battalions reserved specifically to flush out such coalitions, but they were more often than not left to turn on and cannibalize each other out of fear and suspicion. The Jedi Temple-Darulon supplied-was filled with storm troopers. He couldn’t say as to why they still remained in the building when all of the remaining Jedi had been slaughtered, but he speculated that they might use it as a base. Overall, the news was disheartening, though Obi-Wan hadn’t expected it to be anything positive whatsoever. He provided Darulon with a tentative list of planets where he might find more welcoming refuge. The Aqualish invited him along but he refused, stating that he had responsibilities in Tatooine to attend to, which was about as close to the truth as he could get. They parted on good terms, and Obi-Wan made sure to ascertain that he wasn’t being followed back to the farmstead. 

It was nearing sundown by the time he returned, and Anakin was standing just outside the entrance dome, watching impassively as the older man parked the land speeder. Obi-Wan had started letting him outside for the simple fact that he didn’t like the idea of being a jailer. Anakin had to stay out of his own free will and determination to get better, not because he was locked underground with no means of escape. So far, his decision had proven to be a wise one. Anakin ran laps around the farm every morning before sunrise, and occasionally jogged out to talk to Obi-Wan while he was working on the vaporators. He was also slowly but surely beginning to reassemble the hydroponic garden, but the process was slow and their ability to buy supplies was limited by a weekly budget. It seemed that he’d set his own boundaries for himself, and for now every sign indicated that he intended to keep them. 

There were times when the younger man would slip. Obi-Wan would wake to the sound of screaming coming from Anakin’s room and have to force him into unconsciousness before he literally killed himself. Those were sleepless nights. Then there were moments during the day when his former padawan seemed to disappear within himself, looking out at nothing with a despairing look in his eyes that spoke every word of a man who would rather be dead. 

_“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and Padme’ll be there. None of this happened and we’re in bed on Coruscant, and I’m telling her about all of this. She’s laughing and telling me it was just a dream….”_

Obi-Wan had to remind himself to be patient….even if it was difficult. When you were looking into the orange eyes of a deranged, tortured half-Sith it was hard to remember that Anakin was still human. If he failed to dodge a blow or an object thrown at his head with the Force, he often made himself step out of the room. The worst had happened on night four, when he’d woken to the currents of the Force screaming at him with every ounce of midichlorian muster it could manage. He’d stumbled into Anakin’s room to find him hanging from the ceiling with a length of sheet. It took Obi-Wan two minutes to revive him. By the time he had finished yelling, Anakin was almost in tears and he was close to passing out from terror, relief, and exhaustion. He’d made them settle on opposite ends of the couch, but he’d been far too horrified to get any sleep that night. It was then that he’d been forced to ask himself if he was perhaps ‘biting off more than he could chew’ so-to-speak. He’d turned over the idea of contacting Yoda and begging him for help, but something in him balked at the idea of giving up on his former apprentice. The next morning, he’d handed Anakin some bruise salve and told him to stop feeling sorry for himself. Since then, there hadn’t been any more ’Dark’ manifestations. He was privately hoping that the young man had finally hit rock bottom and had realized it was time to ’do or die.’ 

“Any news?” the man in question asked idly, following Obi-Wan down into the courtyard. 

“Nothing I didn’t expect” he replied wearily, shrugging off his cloak and throwing it over a chair. “Rumor has it that you’re dead, or so Palpatine is telling everyone.” 

“I’m fine by that” Anakin remarked, brushing past him to pick up a datapadd. 

“Don’t believe for a second that he thinks it is true” Obi-Wan warned. “It just looks better for him if you’re dead than deserted.” 

“I know, but at least the Resistance won’t be looking for me.” 

“Don’t believe that either.”

“Fine. I’ll just be crazy and paranoid like you, shall I?” 

“I’d be careful throwing the word ‘crazy’ around me, Anakin, especially considering the last few days.” 

The young man rolled his eyes, threw a dramatic hand over his heart, and collapsed backwards onto the couch. Obi-Wan eyed him exasperatedly for a moment, but turned away when he felt the beginnings of a smile start to creep across his face. He made his way to the kitchen to fix some tea-ignoring a rude commented from the toaster-and forced himself to clear his mind. Anakin’s reckless joviality could be as contagious as it was unpredictable, and he was in no mind to jest with him when the news of Palpatine’s rise to the status of Emperor was still so fresh on his mind. The scuff of wood against stone indicated that the young man had gotten up to move the coffee table in preparation for meditation and Obi-Wan sighed, cupping his fingers around his mug and sipping contemplatively. After a few minutes, he joined his former padawan on the circular rug and forgot his troubles for a time.  
________________________________________________________________________________  
It was the day after that when a party of Tuscan Raiders decided it would be a smart idea to steal Miwa, their female bantha. Drugah-the male-wasn’t having any of it, and trampled four or five before Obi-Wan managed to intervene. The sight of his lightsaber was enough to scare off the majority of the group, but one remained behind and observed him at a distance for some length before turning away. This inofitself was worrying. Sand people weren’t known for having any kind of friendly communication with outsiders, but there was still the possibility of someone unsavory forcing information out of them. He could go after them and end all possible means of risk, but he dismissed the idea almost as soon as he had it. Concern over confidentiality didn’t necessitate slaughter. Anakin-who had descended into the pit almost as soon as he saw the Raiders coming-didn’t offer any insight regarding his concerns, other than to say that he was glad that Obi-Wan had dealt with them because he didn’t have any sympathy or restraint when it came to the feral nomads. Ultimately, the older man decided to put it from his mind, and to reassure himself of the fact that if they wanted to leave they could. Still, a small part of him remained unsettled, and he made sure to check the perimeter for signs that any of them had returned over the next few days. 

Anakin had progressed greatly when it came to his meditation, and he was soon able to enter into it alone and unaided. Surprisingly, he still chose to meditate with Obi-Wan when he could, though he stubbornly refused to ascertain as to why. When the older man pressed him on the topic, he became sulky and withdrawn, so he gave up and allowed it for whatever good it was doing him. Later into their second week, Obi-Wan dragged Anakin to the market. Despite his misgivings of allowing his former apprentice to socialize, he was hopeless at grocery shopping. Monetary values on Tatooine were far more convoluted than on Coruscant, and if he wasn’t quick he could find himself paying for something worthless with a lot of money. He’d done that last week, when he’d paid a nervous broker practically his entire salary for what he claimed was bantha meat. Upon returning home, Anakin had explained-in a horrified voice-that it was week-old womp rat rubbed in chava dust to make it look authentic. He proceeded to sternly explain the perils of Outer Rim trade to the inexperienced traveler, and had started on an old Tatooinian children’s tale called the ‘Foolish Merchant’ before Obi-Wan left the room in disgust. 

To his chagrin, Anakin spent the better part of an hour haggling with an elderly Toydarian merchant over an electronic holo-com. Despite his irritation, he had to admit that Anakin was rather masterful when it came to trade, and once they actually reached the food section of the marketplace, they procured enough supplies that they wouldn’t need to come back for at least two weeks. This was probably for the best, as they made a strange duo, and by the time they had left people were giving them suspicious looks. Obi-Wan suggested that they take a round-about way back and for once, Anakin didn’t argue with him. 

Loading their cargo onto the speeder, they set off into the desert at a brisk but innocuous pace. It was only when they were about two miles out from the farmstead that the Jedi Master sensed that anything was wrong. Slowing their vehicle to a crawl and cutting the noisy turbos to a lazy hum, he adjusted their trajectory East and approached the settlement from the rear. Behind him, Anakin muttered something that sounded like a curse as a great cloud of black smoke came into view. Several Federation-issue AT-TEs loomed ominously on the horizon, and Obi-Wan could make out the shape of a large group of Storm Troopers scouring the wreckage of the living pit. Bringing the speeder about with a sharp swing to the left, the older Jedi shouted at Anakin to hold on and they departed at full speed across the dunes. Sirens behind them indicated that they had been spotted, and Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and hoped that sheer determination would-for once-be enough. If they were caught and captured, nothing would stop Darth Sidious from exacting his revenge, and Anakin wasn’t ready for that kind of confrontation yet. Plotting a course to Allon, he could only hope his intuition was correct, and that they would survive the journey across desolate sand and whispering rocks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random Item Clarifications:**
> 
> krayt dragon-exactly what it sounds like. a giant dragon with lots of legs that 'swims' through the sand dunes of Tatooine.  
> Zeltronian-of the planet Zeltros; a predominantly pleasure oriented planet.  
> womp rat-a rodent like creature native to Tatooine  
> chava dust-made up by author. colored dust that is sometimes used to disguise the appearance of various items/used as face paint or as a shield against the harsh desert winds. often combined with water.
> 
> **A/N:** This is turning out to be a lot of narration and not a lot of dialogue. I'm not exactly sure how any of you feel about that, so let me know. As you can see, I'm not really keeping them in any single place very long, as it kind of gets boring if they're just 'hermiting' it out in vague corners of the galaxy. Some combat coming up, haven't entirely formulated it yet but it's in the making. Hope you all had a great weekend!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	5. Escape And Pursuit

Allon was a desert city just North of Mos Eisley, with a population of less than fifty thousand people. To get to it, one could go west from Mos Eisley and stop in Carnthout before heading north across the Great Mesra Plateau. Time and urgency didn’t allow for Obi-Wan to do that; he preferred to go directly North; bypassing any main roads as a precaution. He thanked the stars that the land-speeder was solar-powered, there was no way they could have made the distance on a single tank of fuel. When they were a good five hours away from the farmstead, Anakin silently handed him some dried zucca fruit which he took without comment. He was too focused on using the Force to scan the way they had come for their pursuers to engage in any kind of conversation. They couldn’t stop to wipe away their tracks, so their only hope was to lose themselves in Allon’s population before the Storm Troopers caught up with them. Thankfully, AT-TEs were large and heavily armed, but not fast. 

The suns had long gone down and the stars were winking above them when a light snore at Obi-Wan’s side told him Anakin had fallen asleep. The Jedi Master supposed that it was for the best. He’d forbidden the younger man from using the Force or wielding any kind of weapon; his uses were minimal. He would need Anakin’s help to procure anything space worthy, but for now he could sleep for as long he wanted. Obi-Wan swerved to avoid a lone meewit, who screeched its indignation and disappeared into the night. Slowly, the dunes around them were receding to the South, and before him Obi-Wan could see the great rise of the Mesra Plateau. Adjusting the altitude parameters, he pulled back on the thrusters and rose to mimic the height of the terrain. Soon, they were level with the lay of the landscape; speeding across the rough red rock towards the light of Allon. The city itself seemed to have formed in the fault line of an escarpment; nestled between two relatively similar areas of land with differing elevations. Its layout was-at first glace-much like Mos Eisley’s; with various connected shops and dwellings having been carved from rock faces or erected on the sandy soil itself. 

Shaking Anakin awake, Obi-Wan instructed him to gather as much non-perishable food as he could and to leave the rest for scavengers. It was a waste of money, but what little he had earned on Tatooine would be useless anywhere else in the galaxy. Better that they take what food could be salvaged so they wouldn’t have to buy anything from a vendor who might remember their faces. Once his former apprentice had finished taking inventory of their supplies, they both agreed that it would be better to ditch the speeder and enter Allon on foot. Leaving the last reminder of their simple life on the farmstead parked behind a looming stack of sandstone, the two of them drew up their hoods and made for the mostly silent streets of the city. Few people were out at such a late hour, and those that were paid them no mind, hurrying to their respective destinations without a single glance back. Most shops were closed down, with heavy bars forbidding entry and the occasional security scanner behind glass doorways. A ways up the street, a neon sign in the shape of what looked to be a sarlacc holding multiple tankards in its bright green tentacles heralded the only bar currently open. A seedy sort of music was spilling from the open doorway and Obi-Wan gestured surreptitiously to Anakin who nodded, and they made their way towards the establishment.

Upon closer inspection, Obi-Wan was disheartened to see that the bar was most likely owned by a Hutt. Anakin had explained that as a general rule of thumb, buildings that presented a low exterior level of upkeep were more than likely owned by the Hutteese.   
The inside of the bar was-if possible-even worse. There were a few booths shoved up against the walls that looked like they hadn’t been wiped down for ten years, and the bar was covered in a thin film of what Obi-Wan sincerely hoped was sand coagulated with the many drinks that had never been wiped up. The bartender was a bitter-looking male Twi’lek with chains about his wrists, observed closely by a large Jawa holding an electric flog. A sleepy-looking Theelin was swaying on a barstool with a neon-yellow drink leaning precariously at the edge of the counter, and a small but alert Vultan was talking animatedly into her communicator in a quiet corner. What drew Obi-Wan’s attention was a middle-aged Chiss sitting at the end of the bar furthest from the entrance. She was sipping quietly on a drink, but her uniform suggested that she was a pilot. Her onyx hair-streaked with grey-was pulled back in a military-strict bun and her rubicund eyes swept the premises with an alertness he hadn’t seen in the other clientele. As they approached, her hand nudged the edge of her cloak aside, revealing a silvery blaster stuck in her belt. She hadn’t looked at them, but her warning was clear. 

“Please excuse us” Anakin said softly, flashing the signature half-smile Obi-Wan knew far too well. “We mean no harm, do you speak Standard?”

Silently she sized them up, as if gauging their worth. She didn’t put down her drink, but Obi-Wan sensed that she could likely draw her weapon just as fast as he could his saber. 

“I do” she replied eventually, and her accent was thick but uninflected. 

“We are looking for a ship” Obi-Wan said pleasantly. “My companion and I could not help but notice your uniform, and we wondered if you would know where we might find transport off-planet.”

At his statement, she visibly relaxed; her posture becoming less hostile and more friendly. She set down her drink and turned towards them, studying each of their faces in kind.

“I do not pilot a civilian transport” she replied. “My purpose here is for my people. However, I do know a man who pilots a small passenger liner from here to Bespin.” 

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged glances. If Bespin was not under Imperial control yet, it would be soon. The risks of traveling to any planet under the Sith’s control was great, but it might be just what they needed. If they managed to escape Tatooine, Palpatine was bound to assume they would continue their effort to hide on small, remote planets with little notoriety. Bespin was no Coruscant, but it was far more densely populated than Tatooine. 

“Is he here now?” Obi-Wan asked curiously. 

“He arrived a week ago, but he has been collecting passengers ever since. He told me he would leave tomorrow, this does not bode well for you, he may have filled all of his seats.” 

“We can ride in the cargo hold for all I care” Anakin muttered, earning him a raised eyebrow. 

“If you meet me here at 0700 I can take you to him” she continued smoothly. 

“We’ll be here” Obi-Wan promised. “May I ask your name?” 

“Gess'iliamo'glesizi” she replied, smirking. “You may call me Zii.” 

“It’s been a pleasure” the Jedi Master continued. “My name is Lir, and this is my son Avar.” 

“Until tomorrow” Zii replied.

They turned and left, disappearing into the shadowed streets as quickly as they had come. 

“’Your son’?” Anakin said incredulously once they were out of earshot. 

“Oh come now Anakin, I’m not that old.” 

“Actually, I was thinking you’re far too young” he countered.

“Ah, well, I’m flattered then. But you really mustn’t over-think things like this.” 

They ended up sleeping in the upstairs room of a flat that belonged to an ancient Zelosian. Anakin paid with dried hubba gourds, which their host exclaimed over mightily for the better part of an hour. The house in question was filled to bursting with plant life that shouldn’t possibly have been able to grow in such an environment. Anakin was forced to move several potted everlillies to unearth a surprisingly clean mattress and sheet, which they fell into without question of proximity or propriety. Anakin was emotionally drained, and he had failed to meditate; something Obi-Wan noticed affected him greatly. What with riding through the night and knowing they had to rise early in the morning, the Jedi Master set his communicator to go off at 0600 and dozed off without a second thought.   
_________________________________________________________________  
Obi-Wan awoke to an arm slung over his waist and a head buried in his chest. This was uncommon, as snuggling was definitely not a practice that generally came with the title of Jedi. It took him a moment to put the pieces together, but he eventually realized that at some point in the night, Anakin must have rolled over and burrowed himself into whatever warmth he could find. The Zelosian had explained that he couldn’t afford a space heater, and due to the desert nights being uncommonly cold during this time of year, they might find themselves wanting in the ways of warmth. To make matters worse, it seemed that Obi-Wan had unconsciously reciprocated his former padawan’s need for heat, and they were quite thoroughly and embarrassingly wrapped around each other. This had happened before, when the Jedi Council thought that a visit to Hoth was in order to ascertain the condition of the atmospheric stabilizers. A common engineer just _wouldn’t_ do, and Obi-Wan had dragged a very grumpy Anakin to the icy planet to do as the Council had ordered. The third night in, the generators failed and the facility was plunged into sub-zero temperatures for a good part of four hours. By the end of it, Anakin had dived into Obi-Wan’s cot and plastered himself over every inch of warm skin he could find. There was nothing, absolutely _nothing_ happy about that memory. Both of them had gotten colds to the point where they had to perform their daily tasks with tissues shoved up each nostril and a veritable procession of terrible soups that left you feeling sicker than you already were. Thankfully, it didn’t seem that Anakin was going to start snotting all over him any time soon, but Obi-Wan also doubted he’d be able to extricate himself without waking and subsequently horrifying his companion. In the end, the Universe decided what turn of events would occur for him in any case. Obi-Wan’s nose, which was being subjected to occasional tickling from Anakin’s hair, decided it would be a wonderful time to sneeze. 

For a moment, it appeared that even such a phenomenal event as being covered in someone else’s bacteria wasn’t enough to wake the slumbering ex-Jedi. Then, slowly, Anakin groaned and rolled over; wrenching himself away from Obi-Wan, off the mattress and into a bed of fearsome-looking kielsif blooms. The plants in question shrieked loudly, prompting the appearance of their owner, who shouted at both of the for being so insensitive to his precious flora and then proceeded to kick them out of the flat. By the time Anakin appeared to be even close to waking up, they were out on the street and Obi-Wan was precariously close to giggling like a newly-initiated padawan. He was terribly tempted to tease Anakin, but the young man was looking so thunderous by the time they got back to the bar he didn’t dare.

Zii was waiting for them outside the establishment, dressed in traditional piloting gear covered with a thick cloak to ward off the harsh desert sun. Rather than leading them inside, she took them down a street to the left which narrowed and then opened up into what Obi-Wan recognized as the city docking bay. Only one or two ships were settled on the landing pad, one of which was a heavy transport freighter being laden with goods, and the other a slightly sleeker but no less bulky civilian shuttle. Zii led them over to the shuttle, where a man was standing next to the boarding ramp with a clipboard. He was human, with a stamp on his sleeve indicating he was individually employed. Zii introduced him as Kaelo Mrulin, and though he seemed distant at first, he quickly warmed to the idea of having two extra passengers aboard. Still, when it came to the issue of money, Obi-Wan was at a loss. To add to the absurdity of the day, he was forced to watch in horror and regret as Anakin handed over the last reminder he had of Padme; his wedding ring. It was worth far more than the trip was to cost them, but it was all they had to offer. 

Kaelo seemed to understand that it was a precious thing, and he wrapped it in a cloth handkerchief and gently placed it in his breast pocket. Anakin’s face was pale as he shouldered the small bundle carrying their salvageable food and walked onto the ship without a word. With a nod of thanks to Zii-who wished them safe travels-Obi-Wan followed. The shuttle in question was simplistic. In front was the bridge; small, with what Obi-Wan assumed was an operating system designed for a single pilot. The civilian section was in the back, with several rows of cushioned seats. Most of them were filled but they managed to grab a section that was-for now-unoccupied. To the left were the sounds of what might have been a small on-board cantina. Wondering about it was useless, as neither of them had any money to spend on food. Obi-Wan let his former padawan take the window seat without complaint. Normally, they might have had a spat over it, but he didn’t have the heart to voice any type of protest. After about half an hour, a soft hum indicated that the transport was taking off, but still they said nothing to each other. Obi-Wan desperately wanted to thank Anakin, to tell him that he’d repay him somehow, but anything he came up with seemed hollow and meaningless. Instead, he lifted his palm and covered the ringless hand settled on the armrest with his own. Anakin startled, his gaze moving from the window to their joined fingers, looking at them like they were something foreign and unrecognizable.

“You don’t deserve to live like this, Obi-Wan” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

The younger man gestured with his mechanical arm helplessly.

“Like-this! Ferrying me from hiding place to hiding place, hoping the Empire won’t find us or wishing for a quick death if they do. You should go somewhere where people know you’re a hero.”

“Anakin” he said gently. “I know you don’t like to hear it, but you’ve been my ward for twenty years and then some. I hardly remember life without you. Qui-Gon tasked me with your protection and welfare, and I intend to mete out that task to its fullest extent. You are my friend, and friends don’t leave each other behind-”

-There was a wail from the sirens as the ship was rocked with phaser fire. Several passengers screamed and leapt from their seats, determined to get as far away from the windows as possible. Outside, all Obi-Wan could see was the blackness of space, spattered with its myriad of stars; but the Force was telling him they were otherwise accompanied. Hastening to his feet, the older man beckoned for Anakin to follow him to the cockpit. Hurriedly, avoiding as many panicked passengers as they could, the two men made their way to the front of the shuttle. The pilot’s door was locked, but Obi-Wan triggered the latch mechanism with the Force, and they stepped through swiftly, listening as it hissed shut behind them. Kaelo was manning the joystick with a desperate look, his fingers working over the controls as he attempted to stabilize the vessel. 

“Trouble?” Obi-Wan asked lightly.

“I don’t know what the worlds coming to” the man muttered. “There’s two ARC-170s hell-bent on shooting down a transporter full of innocent civilians.” He looked desperately at them. “I haven’t done nothing wrong in my life” he insisted. “I’ve got no record, no business with shady people, a clean degree in space engineering and intergalactic piloting! My ship’s perfectly legal, I have it checked once a month and approved by the Republican Organization of Spaceworthy Flightvessels twice a year! I’ve been in business for two decades.” 

“I think you’ll come to find the Republic you know and love is gone” Anakin murmured, reaching ‘round Kaelo to flick a dusty-looking switch. There was a great screech and for a moment it seemed as though the ship was about to collapse in on itself; seconds later it shuddered and appeared to gain speed. “Do you have any weapons?” 

“On a _transport_ shuttle?!” 

“If you can get to warp you might be able to lose them if you follow another vessel’s hyperbeam” the younger man continued. 

“There was a cargo freighter on the landing pad” Obi-Wan supplied. “If it hasn’t jumped yet, we might be able to get a tail on it.” 

“A good buddy of mine flies it” Kaelo muttered, tapping frantically at the navigation specs. An instant later, the ship swung about and they were faced with the massive backend of the other ship that had left Tatooine. “He‘s en route to Sump, it‘s close to our intended destination. This won’t be pretty folks. I’ve seen ships bigger than this torn apart by the hyperbeam of a vessel that size.” 

Around them, the frame shuddered as the vessel prepared to hitch itself to the other transport’s hyperdrive.

“Try and ride the center of the stream” Anakin continued. “It’ll reduce the amount of antipressure.” 

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as the ship lurched ominously, stars blurring into streaks of light as they were manipulated into the backflow of the cargo ship. A bolt screwed into the ceiling tore lose behind them, and the screams from the cabin intensified. Kaelo was pale and Anakin was grimly focused, his eyes vacant. Obi-Wan could feel him using the Force to gauge the condition of the ship, but he wasn’t attempting to use it to physically hold the craft together. The floors beneath them rippled with intense heat, thrown into a gravitational inferno as they were pulled in the wake of the freighter like a butterfly on a string. 

“We’ve lost the shields” Kaelo said mechanically. 

“Not long now” Anakin muttered. 

There was an echoing bang and Obi-Wan was thrown into the closed door while Anakin stumbled and steadied himself on Kaelo’s chair. Before them, the sickly greenish-blue hue of Sump was silhouetted by the freighter’s girth. Powering up the engines, Kaelo recalibrated their coordinates and set a route towards Bespin. Slumping down next to the cockpit, Anakin breathe a sigh of relief. Obi-Wan cleared his throat and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. A thin stream of liquid coolant was coming from the air compression chambers, but he reckoned they would reach their destination before it became a real problem.

“Well” he murmured. “We made it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Before I become too disappointing regarding this story and my updates, I feel like I should give you at least a tentative schedule for when I will be posting chapters. At the very least, I try to update once a week. This has always been my rule of thumb, and will likely remain so. Sometimes, I get inspired and will post rapid-fire, but if I don't, you can at least expect content every seven days. 
> 
> One thing I'm struggling with regarding the story is when their feelings for each other will develop. Oftentimes in my case, romantic scenes sort of play themselves out, and I'm dragged along in their wake. In this case, I'm dealing with a relationship based on a lot of organizational taboo (i.e. the Jedi Order) and the fact that one of the chars was previously married and has had children, so the delicacy is paramount. Some of my text might seem lighthearted, but I assure you I'm taking it very seriously. However, I'm a little disappointed in this chapter, as I feel some aspects of their personalities went out of canon, so I'm going to have to drag myself back to reality. 
> 
> Thanks for Reading!


	6. City In the Clouds

By the time they reached Bespin, it seemed that they had given their pursuers the slip. Anakin’s ingenious-and incredibly dangerous-idea of tagging along in a warp stream seemed to have worked. As the magnificent cloud-covered vista of the gas giant slipped by, Obi-Wan checked his communicator, then sat back in his seat with a sigh. Despite the fact that he knew Organa would expect him to want to remain as innocuous as possible, he thought he would have heard some news of Anakin’s children by now. At the very least a location in case of an emergency. A picture would have been nice, something for Anakin to carry around on an every day basis. He couldn’t imagine what it was like; knowing you had two children somewhere in the galaxy, yet no idea what they looked like. The younger man was good at hiding what bothered him, but there were times when he would slip and his thoughts would wander through to spread across his visage. The first time it had happened was at the market on Tatooine. A young woman toting two young children had stopped to buy some bread at a market stall. She and Anakin had briefly engaged in a conversation concerning prices, but his gaze was hardly on her. Instead, he looked at her children with a wistful, unhappy look on his face. His Force signatures were rife with unrest concerning his responsibilities as a parent, and Obi-Wan knew he felt like he had abandoned them.

Once they were sure that danger was behind them, the two traveling companions retreated back to the ship’s cabin while Kaelo broadcasted a comforting report to the other passengers via intercom. Anakin passed Obi-Wan some dewback jerky as they made their descent onto Cloud City’s landing pad, and he made quick work of it while the younger man took inventory of their meager belongings. If Obi-Wan was to be honest with himself, he was worried about establishing any kind of permanent residence in the city. Most of the upper levels centered on tourism, and the lower were the base of the city’s gas mining operation. He had no desire to work with the Ugnaughts who managed the intricate tunnel systems and work areas under the city, so this left them with securing employment in the entertainment sectors. Obi-Wan was no bartender or gambling expert; he didn’t have the sympathetic ear that came with tending to late-night drinkers and his poker face was decent but he didn’t like the idea of cheating people out of their money. If the galaxy was still in stable condition, he might have used his position as a Jedi to secure lodgings, but revealing his identity now was about as clever as walking into the jaws of a ravenous space worm without any clothes on. Despite Tatooine’s reputation as a haven for criminals, it was still fairly easy to earn an honest living. In a place like Cloud City, you had to be an entertainer, a crook, or willing to work in slave-like conditions for a very poor wage. 

Once the rest of the passengers had left the ship, Obi-Wan and Anakin made their way to front so they could thank Kaelo for granting them safe passage. The veteran pilot was examining the coolant leak as they approached, but stopped so that he could speak to them. His expression was that of gratitude and respect, and Obi-Wan was surprised when he pulled the handkerchief containing Anakin’s wedding ring out of his pocket and handed it back to the young man. 

“You both saved my ship, and may have very well saved my life” he said gruffly. “I know when something’s worth more than what it’s given for.” He nodded at Anakin. “You keep that to yourself, I’ve got no use for jewels.” 

“We might have been the cause of your troubles” Obi-Wan murmured. 

“Doesn’t matter” was the rough response. “You got us through it. I reckon that’s paid both your fares and then some. If you’re ever needing a way out and I’m around, you fly for free.” 

“Thank you” Anakin said reverently, sliding the ring back onto his finger. 

Not one to mince words, Kaelo turned back to his work and Obi-Wan took it as a sign their conversation was over. Gesturing to his companion, he made a casual but careful path off the ship and away from the landing pad. Cloud City was in the breathable zone of the planet’s atmosphere, negating the need for enclosure of the great spires of architecture that rose above them. Many of the structures were rounded and domed; often a pale cream or pearly grey. Above them, the traditional red hovercraft designed specifically for Cloud City’s booming tourism industry zoomed by, reflecting crimson sunlight onto the ivory-gold pavement below. In stark contrast to Tatooine; Cloud City’s air was on the cool side and slightly breezy. Most of the people they passed wore long, often elaborate robes in pale colors. The streets were clean and well-maintained, with numerical titles indicating residence buildings and signs gilded in curvy gold lettering heralding the entrances to casinos, lounges, bars, and restaurants. Occasionally, a maintenance droid swept by with a broom and dustpan in hand, beeping absentmindedly as it looked for litter. Now and then, an enthusiastic representative would tumble out of a doorway in flashy clothing and attempt to lure them into a casino, flashing a datapad with the surplus of credits he claimed to have ‘won’ on the first try and swearing by the establishment’s ‘honest’ and ‘trustworthy’ staff. Each time, they were sent away disappointed. 

“Were you planning on settling in here?” Anakin asked idly as they watched the fifth dejected swindler wander back from where he had come. 

“Possibly” Obi-Wan replied, drawing his cloak tighter around him. 

“Job opportunities are going to be scarce” the young man remarked, narrowly avoiding the tail of someone’s kittle, earning himself a glare from the owner. “Honest ones anyway.”

“We may have to consider something…unsavory…unless other options arise.”

Anakin raised a brow.

“…Like prostitution?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, yes Anakin, prostitution is _exactly_ what I had in mind” he said sarcastically. 

‘"My friend, how _are_ you tonight? Shall we step into this dark alleyway so I can show you the ways of The Force?”’ Anakin said in a sultry voice that was a terrible mockup of Obi-Wan’s. 

“Do shut up.” 

They wandered for a while more, occasionally stopping to ask for news from the locals. Surprisingly, Cloud City had thus far been spared the tyranny of the Empire, but Obi-Wan suspected that it had more to do with their distance from the Core than their formidability. When the time came, the city would crumble like tinfoil. They weren’t battle-ready like Coruscant, and their defenses were absolutely abysmal. Then again, Cloud City wasn’t so much a prominent political landmark as a tourist industry and a source of income. As long as they kept paying their taxes, they might not face any retaliation at all. Come sundown, both men agreed it was time to look for a place to rest for the night. After some deliberation, Anakin suggested that a restaurant might trade some credits for some of their food. Having nothing better to consider, Obi-Wan agreed. Eventually, they came across a restaurant that specialized in cuisine from different parts of the galaxy; selling it both over the counter in ‘curiosity packets’ and at the rear of the establishment for those who wished to sit down and enjoy a foreign meal. The owner-a young man from Coruscant-was particularly enthusiastic about their dried zucca fruit and hubba gourd, and offered to buy their entire inventory of it all at once. After transferring some credits onto Anakin’s refurbished datapad; they handed over what they could offer and left in better spirits. Stopping by a booth run by an informatic droid; they were able to secure lodgings in one of the many hotels offered by the city. The amount of money they had gotten would only last them one night and a complimentary breakfast, but Obi-Wan was more concerned about getting Anakin to meditate than where they were going to stay for who knows how long. 

The hotel in question was in need of a good coat of paint externally, but the inside was thankfully clean and sufficiently updated. The concierge gave them their keycard and bid them a good night before returning to monitoring the registry with a bored expression. Their rooms were on the ninth floor and sported two beds, a bathroom with a shower, and a small living room separated from the sleeping area by a single step down with wide windows facing the cityscape. The fixtures and fabrics were neutral tones of grey, cream, and white; reflecting the general color scheme of Cloud City. Anakin tucked their now meager stash of imperishable food into a cabinet underneath the holoscreen and kicked off his boots; slinging his cloak over a chair in the corner. Obi-Wan was more composed, arranging his footwear at the edge of his bed and neatly folding his cloak before placing it in a drawer. They both took turns in the shower, delighted by the opportunity to have a wash with real, running water. Obi-Wan went first, and settled onto the carpet in front of the windows to mediate while his former padawan took his turn at getting properly clean. Closing his eyes, Obi-centered himself and reached out with the Force; ignoring the numerous life patterns of the city for now in favor of seeking the musical veins of universal stillness. He sighed when he found it, that calm plain of softly blooming lines in breathy colors…silent yet singing…still yet perpetually mobile. Floating while tethered and at the same time seemingly boundless, you could reach out and feel nothing and everything all at once in a symphony of synchronous inertia. Qui-Gon had once told him that meditation worked in various layers…beginning with Conscious Signatures, those that functioned while the body was still alert, and then Force Signatures which could only be manipulated while meditating. Finally, there were Soul Signatures….essences of self that were retained in the force via midichlorian imprints, these were reachable only by first accessing one’s Force Signature and then going deeper into the essence of individual being. 

For a while, he was alone in the stillness…accepting of his place in life and the Force in his. Then, tentatively, he was aware of Anakin’s careful integration into his consciousness; cautious and questioning at first and then slowly spreading and settling with his acceptance. His former padawan’s Light was much more pronounced now, there was more peace in him…more acceptance and patience. He could see a slight muddling caused by days of not having the time to meditate, but that could be easily rectified. Carefully, so as not to surprise him, Obi-Wan nudged at the residual shadows that clung to Anakin’s mind, brushing them away like so much dust ‘till he was satisfied with the results. He was observed calmly and gently, with a touch of fondness that was familiar and yet new to him. Anakin’s Force signature was guarded and bold, but once integrated it was mutedly cheerful and shyly affectionate. There were soft, circling bursts of spherical light that flickered and bounced…almost like silent bubbles of laughter; these were accompanied by huge waves of multicolored froth, bursting upwards like sea against shore in a display of power that often left him breathless and somewhat apprehensive. He was only a little surprised when Anakin’s Soul Signature reached out to embrace his in an almost absentminded way; twining itself through and around him until he couldn’t tell where he ended and his former padawan began. It was a profound gesture, something they hadn’t done in a long time. Jedi were often told to avoid combining Soul Signatures, as it tended to be unacceptably intimate, but Anakin seemed to need it. Almost immediately after they had joined, the younger man’s Signatures visibly relaxed; tension Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed dissipating into nothingness as Anakin’s essence took on an almost somnolent appearance. 

It was a long time before they both emerged, refreshed and hardly needing the sleep that they took in any case. Obi-Wan had been forced to draw them both out of their meditative states, Anakin having somewhat lost consciousness in the soul bond. As much as he enjoyed the feeling, the Jedi Master knew he couldn’t let them luxuriate forever. It was as dangerous as it was comfortable, with the risk of getting lost in the nuances of the Force and forgetting to exist. Anakin poured himself some water from the tap in the ‘fresher while Obi-Wan shed his tunic and socks and crawled into bed. Distantly, he was aware of the young man’s whispered ‘good night’; but couldn’t bring himself to fully wake and return the favor. Instead he drifted off into a dreamless sleep, content that at least for tonight…all was well.  


\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
In the morning, they rose, dressed, and gathered their belongings. Anakin went down to breakfast while Obi-Wan hastened to find the hotel’s laundry so he could at least wash their cloaks. When he’d ascertained that he would find them clean and dry within the hour, he ventured up to the buffet where he found his former padawan eating some sliced avedame accompanied by a plateful of scrambled vakiir eggs. He himself selected some porridge and breakfast fruit, and they discussed their plans for the day while they ate. Anakin wanted to explore Cloud City a little more before they decided to land themselves with jobs that wouldn’t do anything for their overall morale, and Obi-Wan was inclined to agree. He could’ve been guaranteed lodgings and a medical ticket for the entirety of his employment and he still wouldn’t be happy as a bartender. They retrieved their cloaks from the laundry after the allotted hour and ventured out into the streets.

The city was busier, what with the morning rush of tourists hastening to get to prime locations before the day was spent. They were hard pressed to get anywhere without getting swept away in the crowd. Twice, Obi-Wan was forced to drag Anakin away from an assortment of vendors carrying flashy electronic parts. 

“We don’t have any money” he said firmly as the young man complained mightily. 

“I know, but I could have done _something_ to impress them.” 

“We’re here to blend in, not to stand out.” 

Anakin opened his mouth to reply but paused, his eyes narrowing as he appeared to gaze at something across the street. 

“What is it?” Obi-Wan muttered, his hand brushing the hilt of his lightsaber. 

“How do you like horticulture?” 

“Well…I’ve never had much of a green thumb to be honest but I suppose-”

“-I’ll apply there then.”

Without another word, the younger man took the lead and Obi-Wan was forced to follow him across the street and into a massive building. Stepping over the threshold was-admittedly-a surreal experience. Almost immediately they were plunged into air that was moist, humid, and just on the uncomfortable side of warm. The walls around them, up to the very ceiling seemed to be covered with a thick greenish growth; completely invisible to the outside. Closer inspection proved it to be numerous individual plants, all in some stage of growth and development. In front of them were rows upon rows of the same, stretching back a good thirty feet ‘till they met up with a tiny counter above which was a sign that said _“Erso’s Emporium: Gardening at its Greatest.”_ The counter was flanked by a small door which Obi-Wan supposed was used for staff. As they made their way forwards it opened, and a cheerful-looking Zeltronian came out carrying a box of seedlings. He had a shock of shaggy blue hair that stopped about halfway down his ears and deep red skin that was covered by a simple white tunic and cargo pants of the same color. He was followed by one of his kin, her skin a light pink and long red hair that was tied back in a braid that seemed to go on forever. Both stopped at the sight of the two men, and exchanged nervous glances before coming forward. 

“Welcome, gentlemen” the male Zeltronian said smoothly, setting the box of seedlings down on one of the countless rows of greenery. “How may I serve you today?”

“We are seeking employment” Obi-Wan said calmly, earning a raised eyebrow from Anakin. “My friend here noticed your establishment, and we both agreed that we might look for openings here.” 

Both Zeltronians looked mildly surprised at his statement, and the female, who for the most part had remained behind, stepped forward.

“Oh, _Erso”_ she breathed. “Wasn’t I just saying how we could use an extra few pairs of hands?” 

‘Erso’-as he’d been so aptly addressed-looked less than thrilled with the idea of working with them, but at a look from his companion, he appeared to relent. 

“Do either of you have any botanical experience?”

“We’re fast learners” Anakin said dryly.

“Mmm, a pity” he drawled. “I’m sorry, but I need trained employees. I don’t have time to teach newcomers.” He raised a hand when the female made to speak again, and she fell silent. “I wish you _both_ a good day.”

Anakin turned on heel and practically stormed out of the shop, Obi-Wan thanked them-albeit stiffly-before hurrying after his former padawan. Blinking stupidly in the bright city sun, he took a moment to gather his bearings before turning to talk to the obviously furious young man. 

“Anakin, you can’t expect to get hired within five minutes of looking for a job.” 

“If you hadn’t come in, I would have had it in the bag.” 

Obi-Wan stopped walking and turned to face his addressee. 

“Oh? And why do you think that?” 

“The female. She liked me…they’re Zeltronian….” he trailed off.  
“…And would you have given what she wanted you to offer?”

Anakin seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before speaking.

“Yes. But only so we could have a place to stay. I want to help, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan sighed and resumed walking.

“This may shock you my young companion” he said dryly. “But I don’t value a soft mattress enough to let you get a job whose solidity is based on how well you pleasure your female supervisor.” 

“I know” was the quiet response after a few moments. 

They continued on for several hours, stopping at various places that looked marginally promising only to be shot down. At lunch, they sat on the steps outside a museum and shared some jerked bantha and a bottle of water. It wasn’t until late afternoon that they came across a small holobookstore tucked behind a flashy-looking casino that they had their first bout of luck for the day. The store in question was run by an elderly Miraluka, which made Obi-Wan _very_ nervous, but she seemed to accept that they were a father and son traveling during the dark times of the Empire, and that they had come to Cloud City for employment and refuge. She introduced herself as Isil Yadet, and she admitted that though she had managed the shop well in her youth, her age was making it hard to read the holobooks.

“My people are Force Sensitive” she said in a wavering voice. “But these newfangled holobooks aren’t _living_ things…I can’t sense their names or their purposes as well as I used to.” She reached forward and took Anakin’s hand, patting it gently. Obi-Wan watched in amusement as his former padawan tried not to flinch. “You two can help me get things in order.” 

They agreed on a set fee to split between them. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was fair and Obi-Wan couldn’t really ask for more. The shop itself was clean and dust-free, with rows upon rows of holobook displays stacked on top of each other, organized by genre and language. There were little sitting areas designed for those who wished to relax and peruse for an extended amount of time, and Isil pointed out a small tea set she brought about to regulars. She put Obi-Wan behind the counter to manage purchases and process orders, and he watched idly as she led Anakin to a stack of holobooks that had yet to be sorted. 

“You can read through them if you like” she said dotingly. “It’s a slow day, and I don’t mind.” She glanced at Obi-Wan, her ’gaze’ surprisingly accurate through the dark shades that she wore over her eyes. “You too dear.”

In the end, they only had a few hours to work before it was time to begin to close. Both men aided in sweeping the floor and pulling the security blinds. Isil transferred their credits and thanked them for their help as they locked up, and they proceeded to go their separate ways. Anakin was already a good ways down the street when their employer caught Obi-Wan’s arm, surprising him. Her expression-though limited by her lack of eyes-was deadly serious. 

“That boy’s Force Signature is incredible” she said softly. 

He deliberated for a moment before deciding that the truth was probably for the best.

“It always has been” he replied. 

“Yours isn’t anything to pass over either” she continued, letting go of his arm. “Be careful, I’m not the only one in this city who can sense the Force. You don’t want anyone with bad intentions catching sight of his aura; he hovers on the edge of Destruction, if he wavers even a little…he will fail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** _because I know you were just DYING for an A/N_ \- I just nerdily feel the need to point out that realistically, Cloud City could never exist anywhere in any galaxy. To make things short; the amount of air pressure needed to sustain life on a gas giant would be far, far lower than the city’s stated altitude, and it would have to be enclosed due to the extreme cold because of the distance from the sun. Even if the air was technically ‘breathable’; you’d be frozen solid before your first breath reached your lungs. 
> 
> **Random Clarifications:**  
>  kittle-looks like a cat/grub? Domesticated animal  
> Soul/Force/Conscious Signatures-Not canon, I made it up, though there are similar descriptions that do fit into canon. You can look them up.  
> Miraluka-sightless, humanoid, sentient race. They are commonly VERY force sensitive, and many became Jedi though most were killed off at the Temple Slaughter.
> 
> I enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> P.S. If anyone knows how to break up a paragraph without using ---- please let me know as it is a pain to format it.


	7. Dreams and Decisions

Anakin was-at the moment-being violently sick in the ‘fresher. 

Leaning against the wall and trying to blink the last vestiges of sleep out of his eyes, Obi-Wan was struggling to be supportive while semi-conscious. It was late-or early, depending on how you wanted to define it-and the bustle of the city was next to nil at this hour. They had managed to rent a small apartment on the fortieth floor of a high-rise in Cloud City’s commercial district. It wasn’t cheap, but it was comfortable, and you couldn’t really ask for much else. The apartment was small and entirely circular; sporting a sleeping area with two twin beds, a living space connected to the kitchen, and a single bathroom. Like the hotel they had stayed in on the night of their arrival, most of the décor centered on creamy whites and pearly grays. There was a laundry and gym on the first floor, and a public pool in the back that they tended to avoid due to the amount of children that liked to congregate there at any given time. Their shifts at the bookstore were synchronous, and they worked five days a week, nine hours a day. It was calm, organized and methodical work; something that Obi-Wan enjoyed immensely. 

“Anakin…are you alright?” he said roughly.

When a groan and another bout of vomiting was the only response he got, the Jedi Master overrode the lock mechanism with the Force and made his way into the bathroom. His former padawan was slumped over the toilet shaking uncontrollably, his face deathly pale. He favored Obi-Wan with an acknowledging glance, before resuming what the older man now saw was a sort of anxiety-induced dry-heaving. Kneeling beside him, he rubbed his back through it, waiting patiently until his symptoms appeared to subside. Once he was sure that the worst of it was over, he rose and moved to the sink where he soaked a washcloth and handed it over wordlessly. Anakin nodded his thanks and proceeded to wipe his mouth with an unsteady hand, bracing himself against the wall as he made to stand and dispose of the cloth in the hamper to the left of the shower. It wasn’t until they were settled on the couch in the living room that he deigned to speak. 

“It was just a dream” he said hoarsely. 

Obi-Wan raised a brow. 

“It must have been some dream” he remarked. The younger man grimaced and ran a weary hand through his hair, as if to dispel some lingering sensation of discomfort. “Anakin” he said gently. “You can tell me, I won’t judge you.”

“It was the Temple” he whispered. “The Younglings…” Long fingers rose to cover his eyes. “I can’t get their screams out of my head.” For once, Obi-Wan was helpless to comfort Anakin. He couldn’t tell him it was alright-because it wasn’t-and he couldn’t tell him that it would fade in time, because he didn’t know if memories of such sin ever disappeared. He’d seen it all on the security feeds; the brutality, the mercilessness. How did someone live with that? Anakin was watching him, a knowing expression on his face. “If I could take it all back…I would.”  
Obi-Wan swallowed. 

“I know you would” he said calmly. “The way you suffer for it….it tells me that.” 

“I never should have become a Jedi” was the bitter response. “I should have stayed on Tatooine, look how many people would have been better for it.” 

“Anakin, without you, Count Dooku could still be among us. We might never have won against the Separatists without you to disable the ship that controlled the droids.” He smiled wryly. “We might never have gotten _off_ Tatooine ourselves.” 

“There’s always someone else” was the murmured reply. “You could have done that…or Qui-Gon.”

“Qui-Gon didn’t die because of you” Obi-Wan said gently, ignoring the pang in his chest at the mention of his former Master. “He died facing a very great Sith, the son of a Witch of Dathomir who fell to the Dark Side of the Force.” He stood and covered his mouth to conceal a yawn. “Anakin, you are making things right but it takes time. Be patient, and don’t give in to despair.” He glanced back at the couch. “Can you sleep?”

“I don’t know if I want to” was the weary reply. “I might have some tea.” 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and made his way to the kitchen.

“Gwethh or Karlini?” 

“You don’t have to…”

“I’m having some as well” was the firm reply.

“…Gweth. Padme used to-” he shuddered. “-Anything but Karlini.”

Nodding absentmindedly, the older man poured water into the kettle and set it on the stove before turning to fetch the tea from the cabinet. By the time he’d turned around, Anakin was sitting on a stool next to the counter, watching absentmindedly as Obi-Wan fussed with the infuser. 

“…Do you ever think that the Jedi set themselves up for failure?” he queried, scratching at the counter. 

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked idly, dolling out tea leaves. 

Anakin worried his lip and sat back slightly, tilting his head.

“Jedi are taught to suppress their emotions…to control themselves. But we’re born with emotions, so we must need them on some level.” He blinked sleepily as Obi-Wan set a small carafe of cream on the table. “Suppressing how we feel….it’s like pretending we’re not human, trying to be something we’re not.” 

“Jedi aren’t robots Anakin” Obi-Wan replied patiently. “Controlling your emotions and ignoring them are two entirely different things.” The kettle began to whistle and he hastened to turn off the range. “We acknowledge what we feel, but we don’t always act upon our feelings. It’s not so much about control as it is about letting go.”

“It feels dishonest” was the bitter reply. 

Obi-Wan sighed and pushed a full cup of tea over the counter to his former padawan. 

“Something I’ve always failed to teach you is the simple truth that you can remain true to yourself and your feelings without broadcasting it to the world” he remarked, stirring his own drink. “You like telling people how you feel…but I don’t. I always assumed it was something that you’d grow out of, children are prone to saying whatever comes into their head at the time. When you didn’t, I failed to recognize it as a sign of your sense of entitlement; I doted on you.” 

“Oh, let’s not get into this _‘Anakin was a rotten little padawan’_ rubbish again” the younger man groused, reaching for the cream. 

“But you were” Obi-Wan said mildly. He smirked crookedly at his companion. “Yoda was _always_ telling me I’d live to regret it.”

_“Spoiled young Skywalker is, a brat he will become, too gentle you are, Obi Wan…spank him you must.”_

“None of that woosh” he replied sternly. “You’re sounding like you’ve gone thermal.” 

“Hasn’t that always been your continual excuse for me?” 

“Hmph.” 

They finished their tea in an amicable silence, Anakin remaining behind to clean up while Obi-Wan went back to bed. It wasn’t until he was about to fall asleep that he realized they hadn’t particularly talked about Anakin’s dream, but a snore from the other side of the room told him that all was well. Deciding to let it slide, he put the thought away for a more agreeable time of day.

______________________________________________________________

“That one looks like a Hutt.”  


“…Focus Anakin.”

They were sitting outside the bookstore with their faces tilted up to the sun. It was midday, and Isil had dismissed them for their traditional lunch hour. Two wrapped sandwiches sat between them but they were-for the moment-forgotten. Obi-Wan had suggested an impromptu meditation session to study the nuances of the Force in a public setting. Conscious signatures didn’t require the deep level of concentration they usually applied to their at-home sessions, and they were still able speak back and forth, though response times were generally somewhat delayed. Anakin was distracted, mostly because he was hungry…Obi-Wan kept getting images of his former padawan eating his sandwich. It was pleasantly warm, and the sun cast a welcoming heat about his shoulders; settling through the light robes he wore to rest against his skin. They’d both exchanged their tattered, travel-worn garments for clothing that was practically identical except for color. Once again, Cloud City’s color-scheme prevailed even in its clothing, and their new tunics, undertunics, pants, and cloaks were a pale eggshell hue. Though neither man’s shade of choice, it helped them blend in, and they weren’t getting as many odd looks as they used to. 

Obi-Wan gently tugged Anakin’s psyche back to the present, urging him to ignore his hunger and explore his surroundings. Reluctantly, his former padawan obeyed, occasionally dragging him along to observe a signature from afar or point out a particularly intricate nuance in the Force. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him and the older man watched amusedly as Anakin’s consciousness extended past its normally stubborn limitations, his sandwich forgotten. After twenty minutes, Obi-Wan pulled him back to the present and gave him permission to come out of his meditative state. Slowly, they both emerged; blinking in the bright midday sun as the scents and sounds of the world came back to them. 

“How do you feel?” Obi-Wan queried, reaching for a bottle of water. Anakin shrugged and pulled up his hood, which had fallen down during the course of their meditation. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.” 

The younger man raised a brow.

“Why not?”

Obi-Wan grimaced.

“Oh, I don’t know. The hood…the color, it makes you look…frothy.” 

Anakin, who’d been about to take a bite of his sandwich set it down, looking bewildered.

_“Frothy?”_

“Yes…something wrong with that?”  


For a moment, Anakin appeared to be having a conniption. His lips twitched before he hastily covered them with a hand. It wasn’t until he turned his gaze towards Obi-Wan that the older man realized that his eyes were veritably _dancing._ Then, for the first time in what felt like months, Anakin threw back his head, and _laughed._

It was a beautiful, heartfelt sound that left him momentarily breathless. He didn’t think he’d heard his former padawan laugh like that since before the Clone Wars began. There was a life in it that he’d long thought gone with the last vestiges of childhood. He’d always assumed it was something Anakin had grown out of, not something that had literally _died._ It was an overwhelming realization, both crushing and exhilarating all at once. And where his companion was laughing, he found himself close to weeping because he had missed _so much going wrong_ in Anakin in those last few months leading up to Order 66. He’d missed his withdrawal, his resentment and his anger, he’d missed him slipping away from the Temple to sleep with Padme. Force! He’d even missed Anakin’s anxiety at being an expectant father, and an expectant father who should have never become a father to begin with. The entirety of the Council was so focused on the Separatists and the Sith behind them they’d forgotten the Chosen One was right under their noses and _suffering._

“Anakin” Obi-Wan said passionately. “Anakin, I’m so sorry.” 

At his tone, the young man sobered and turned to look at him. On his face was a confused and bewildered expression, still tinged with a mild hint of amusement.

“You call me frothy then you’re sorry” he remarked dryly. “Forgive me, Obi-Wan, but I’m at a loss today.” 

“I’m just….happy” Obi-Wan said helplessly, reaching for his sandwich. When Anakin continued to look bemused, he sighed. “Forget it…it’s just one of those days.” 

“Mhmm” was the mumbled response around a mouthful of nerfsteak. “I’m just going to savor this moment for a while” Anakin said after he’d swallowed. “You’ve never been so verbally spontaneous.” 

It wasn’t long after that when Isil called them in to sort some old datafiles she’d stored in the back. They began their respective tasks together but a customer soon drew Obi-Wan back to the counter and away from Anakin and his sunny disposition. The man in question was looking for a history of Bespin’s Ugnaught population, having been offered a job overseeing one of their massive gas mining facilities. The Jedi Master pointed him to the right shelves and wished him good luck after he’d decided on a purchase. The rest of the day was spent helping a herd of engineering students find their course books without losing his temper. He didn’t remember anything being so inaccessible when he was a padawan. Anakin preferred to lurk in the storage room-as was custom when anyone his age was about these days-much to his former Master’s irritation. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted him getting friendly with anyone, he’d have just liked to see some indication of sociability. If he was ever going convince anyone of his reform, he had to show some inclination towards life outside the Jedi Temple. 

Obi-Wan frowned and stabbed an order on the shipment screens with a particular ferocity. He couldn’t imagine returning to the Jedi Lifestyle without Anakin. They’d been teamed up together too many times, and although he wasn’t too old to accept another padawan…there wasn’t anyone to begin training. He couldn’t go elsewhere and begin training Jedi in secret, when there was a concentration of Force Sensitive individuals in one place at any given time; Sith gravitated towards the source of power. They’d keep getting knocked down before they got back up. Even with Anakin’s help, he doubted they’d be able to begin anew. Obi-Wan turned and leaned heavily on the counter, watching as his former padawan logged a new transfer of holobooks and stacked the titles on separate shelves. Then there was this whole _‘Chosen One’_ business. Did he-Obi-Wan Kenobi-have the right to pull Anakin out of active duty permanently? That had certainly been his intention at first, but now he wasn’t so sure. What if, by removing him from his status as a Jedi, he had thrown off the prophecy and doomed the universe to be under the constant oppression of the Sith? 

_‘Anakin couldn’t have saved the Galaxy from the Sith when he **was** a Sith’_ he thought furiously. 

But what if he could?

“That would be terrible irony” he muttered, flipping through the glossy holographic pages of Speeder’s Weekly. 

The tickle of breath on the back of his neck made him jump.

“You’re thinking too hard” Anakin murmured, switching off the display and putting a hand on his arm. Obi-Wan grimaced and turned to face the younger man, rubbing a weary palm over his brow. His companion smiled crookedly and lifted the hand on his arm to his shoulder, poking gently. “Care to share?”

Obi-Wan shook his head and ran a hand through his beard, glancing around surreptitiously to make sure Isil wasn’t within earshot.

“I think we’re going to have to kill the Sith” he muttered. 

Anakin froze for a minute, his eyes searching Obi-Wan’s for any sign of deceit; he needn’t have bothered, he’d never been more serious. 

“You…or _we_?” he said quietly. 

“I said we, didn’t I?” the older man replied irritably. “I can’t do this by myself, and I can’t rely on Yoda to not send me off to some remote corner of the galaxy for taking so long to contact him.”

“But what about…my recovery?” Anakin urged. “Do you think I can face Palpatine after such a short time?” 

“I think we’ve run out of options” was the grim reply. “The galaxy isn’t going to wait for you to get better, and neither is Darth Sidious. Your children are out there and at risk, there are more Jedi-there have to be-hidden in the Outer Rim Territories. I can’t sit here in good conscience and let the world burn around us, and I don’t think you can either.” 

“What’s the plan then?” 

“Beginning tomorrow, we’ll start hand-to-hand combat in the gym. We’ll go early, so we can train alone. I’m as much out of practice as you are, so we can work on getting back into shape together. It’ll take a while, maybe a week or two, but once we’re done…you’ll get your lightsaber back.” 

The hand on his shoulder slipped off and Anakin looked away, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Obi-Wan…I don’t know if…” he took a deep breath. “I don’t want to fail again…the idea of even _holding_ a lightsaber is…terrifying. Do you really think this is what the Force intended for us? Are we supposed to be the ones who kill the Sith?” 

The Jedi Master hesitated. 

“Anakin, all I know is that every time I meditate, I feel the Dark Side of the Force growing stronger. There’s so much of it, and so little Light. Ignoring it would be…irresponsible.” 

“You don’t understand” the younger man muttered. “I feel it too, but it’s like…a call. It doesn’t disgust me as much as it makes me….” he shuddered and trailed off. “People think that the Dark Side of the Force is about anger, hate, and greed, and it somewhat is, but there’s so much more to it than that.” Obi-Wan was silent, it was the first time Anakin had spoken about the Dark Side so openly, and he wasn’t about to stop him. “It’s a feeling of being-oh, I don’t know-it’s this _freedom_ it’s knowing you don’t have inhibitions or limits. That you can do what you want, and get what you want if you try hard enough.” He pushed the edge of the holomag Obi-Wan had been reading idly. “Do you remember when we visited that pleasure district on Coruscant and someone slipped an aphrodisiac into your drink?” 

“When the Council ordered us to find the Hutt ferrying slaves” Obi-Wan acknowledged dryly. “It’s hard to forget.” 

“It’s like that, but you always want more. It’s under your skin once you submit, like an itch you can never satisfy, no matter how much you indulge.” He grimaced. “You can get a shot for a drug that counteracts whatever effects you feel, but with the Force…it’s different.”

“So why stop?” Obi-Wan pressed. “What made you realize you were doing the wrong thing?”

Anakin smiled wryly.

“Despite the fact that the Dark Side encourages power, anger, and passion, it doesn’t encourage love. When I hurt Padme, I realized that no matter how much I wanted to protect her, I could never _love_ her with the Dark Side. My anger surpassed what I felt for her…and I killed her because of it. When you and I were fighting, all I could think about-all I could _feel_ -was your grief. At first, I tried to tell myself it only added fuel to my rage, but then I realized it was bleeding through. I remembered looking up at you as a child, of all the things you tried to teach me, I started to realize what I had done…” he seemed to catch himself and trailed off. 

“Your fear is justified” Obi-Wan said gently. “I’d feel much less comfortable with all this if you were confident. Your hesitance shows how much you’ve grown.” When the younger man continued to look uncertain, he sighed. “If you don’t trust yourself, trust me. If I see you start to crumble, I’ll let you know.” 

He smiled crookedly. 

“After all, what are Masters for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm really enjoying the conversations that Obi-Wan and Anakin are having, but I've never worked with them before so it could be just the 'newness' of it all....kind of like that 'new car' smell. Realistically, this probably isn't going to be a very long fic. Maybe thirty chapters or so, depending on how I decide to break things up. Right now, I'm writing solely for the enjoyment of it.
> 
> There's nothing specific about the word 'frothy' that has any relevance. Obi-Wan just kind of...pulled it out of thin air. I'd been wanting him to call Anakin that for about three days (kinda weird)...so satisfying.


	8. Here With You

Their training wasn’t going as well as Obi-Wan would have liked.

For one, both of them were haunted by the shadow of their fight on Mustafar. Anakin was reluctant to be the aggressor, and if forced, he was too gentle. Obi-Wan was overly-defensive and equally apprehensive of landing blows that did anything more than make his adversary flinch. Suddenly, it was as if they were both made of glass, and neither one was willing to make the other break. In terms of the Force, they were closer than they had ever been; but when it came to combat it was as if they were suddenly strangers. A week bled into two, then three and still they couldn’t do more than dance around each other. It was late into the fourth week when Obi-Wan finally threw in the gauntlet and suggested they spar with different people. Whatever their issues with each other, they couldn’t allow their fears to get in the way any longer and the only way to do that was to look for adversaries they were willing to hurt. They struck up an amicable partnership with two Shorak who were often in the gym, and soon both men were considerably confident in their ability to handle hand-to-hand combat. 

This was-of course-only a temporary solution. Once the time came for lightsaber training, they were faced with the same issue. Anakin would have flash-backs of combat at the Temple during their training sessions; his face would go blank and his eyes would become distant and empty of anything but despair. Twice, he simply lost consciousness; falling to the sparring mat with no warning but a grunt and a _***thud***_. Obi-Wan handled these moments the only way he knew how; with meditation and conversation. Nobody spoke about it, but many Jedi had experienced the affects of PTSD at some point or another. As defenders of the Republic, they were put on the front lines, often witnessing the most gruesome and brutal combat situations only to move on to the next as if nothing had happened. Suppressing emotions only worked so well when you watched the genocide of an entire species, or your comrades get blown to pieces by the dozens in the name of ‘peace’ and ‘politics.’ Obi-Wan couldn’t even imagine the mental agony that came with the knowledge that you’d executed your comrades in a state of partial-madness. 

Reintroduction into Jedi practices seemed to bring Anakin’s demons back with a vengeance. Three times Obi-Wan had to make him sleep using the Force because he was indulging in self-harm, and he woke up screaming for Padme nearly every other night. Ultimately, the Jedi Master was forced to acknowledge that the majority of his Padawan’s issues didn’t lie in his actions, but his fear of what the duties of a Jedi had made him become. He’d joined the Order far too old, with the label of _Chosen One_ on his head and a desperation to prove himself that most young trainees would have had stamped out of them by the time they were his age. Being a Jedi wasn’t about proving yourself, it was about protecting the Galaxy and the Republic, but Anakin had always felt like had to do better than everyone else. The result of their strenuous determination to press forward was a blurred line between Code propriety and humane relief. More often than not, Obi-Wan woke with Anakin curled into him in the wee hours of the morning, their hands clasped, having fallen asleep while trying to soothe the darkness in his soul. Sunlight would spill across the coverlets and he’d stare pensively at it as the younger man sighed and his fingers bunched in his tunic. If they touched more out of necessity to reassure, he told himself it was nothing; that they were both simply seeking out that which was familiar in a sea of indistinctness and uncertainty. 

Regardless of setbacks and difficulties, slowly the two men got closer to their desired goal. Anakin’s nightmares became more spaced out before disappearing entirely, and with the aid of extensive meditation and the utilization of Soresu-which was less aggressive than Shiem, his typical form of choice-his flashbacks became less crippling. Nevertheless they were forced to acknowledge that some part of Anakin was permanently damaged by his actions. He would always be closer to the Dark Side of the Force than any Jedi who hadn’t succumbed, and as a result would be more susceptible to temptation. A small part of his soul was irreparable, as it commonly was when one slaughtered a large amount of innocent people. Anakin could serve but he couldn’t lead, and he seemed fine with that. Whatever pride had driven him to hunger for status, recognition, and deference was gone. That wasn’t to say that Anakin was no longer powerful, certainly not. The concentration of Force in his body still left Obi-Wan staggering at times, but he seemed to have more control over it…more respect for his position and his abilities. Under different circumstances, Obi-Wan would have been bursting with pride at his ascension into maturity; but the cost of Anakin’s knowledge was too great to allow for any gratitude or happiness. 

By the time that Obi-Wan was confident enough to hand Anakin’s lightsaber to him, it had been well over a month. They were sitting on the floor in their tiny living room listening to the radio. Isil had sent them home for the night, and each had taken turns showering and meditating before settling on the soft white rug with a cup of tea. Anakin was scrolling through his refurbished datapadd with an absentminded expression, his organic hand hovering over various commands as his mechno-hand clutched his tea. His hair was still damp from the shower and hung in humid, slightly curled strands to his shoulders. Obi-Wan was fussing with his communicator, which had recently shown signs of being on its last legs. He’d had it since he was a padawan; Qui-Gon had gotten it for him and he was loathe to be rid of it. 

_***“Annnd that’s a wrap folks! Thanks to Uekup'dowe for her take on the Imperial Debate. Remember, we’re on at the same time every evening! Stay tuned for Thienes Waveshock and the Quivering Ryn. This is Artyk Vin’tko with your Political Arena, have a great night and stayyy mesh’la!”*** _

A strange, globular wailing began to filter from the speakers along with a strangely irrational drone that sounded oddly like a very low frequency klaxon. Wincing, Obi-Wan hastily shut the radio off and sat back.

“Not a fan?” Anakin remarked idly, shutting of his datapadd.

“Not in the slightest” Obi-Wan said flatly.

“I hear the lead singer is Askajian.”

“That doesn’t change my opinion. If I wanted to hear the sound of distorted battlefield combat I’d fire a few charges off underwater.” 

“It’s supposed to be _artistic.”_

“Don’t pretend you like them any more than I do. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me and it’s not going to work, Anakin.” The young man gazed up at him through his curtain of hair, an idle smirk on his face and no reiterating argument forthcoming. Obi-Wan smiled wryly and tucked his communicator back into his pocket. “I have something for you” he continued, pulling Anakin’s lightsaber out of his cloak. Anakin’s eyes widened, and he sat back as he automatically accepted the weapon with his organic hand, hefting it idly before placing it on the carpet. “You’re ready” Obi-Wan reassured him. “There’s really only so much we can do when it comes to training. You knew everything already, you just had to integrate mentally.” 

“I don’t _feel_ ready” Anakin murmured, running an idle finger down the pommel of his saber. 

“When I underwent the Trials, I felt like I wasn’t ready” Obi-Wan said gently. “I spent months trying to convince Qui-Gon I was ready, that I could take that step and become a Master, but he always insisted I had more to learn.” He shifted idly. “When Qui-Gon died…and it was decided I would face the Trials and become your Master, it was as if all that confidence was gone. It was only after I completed the Trials that I understood that a true Jedi knows they always have more to learn.” Obi-Wan smiled and put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You’ve finally gotten to the point where you know you’ll never be perfect. It’s unnerving, maybe even disappointing, but the path to becoming a good Jedi involves acknowledging our imperfections; there will always be someone better, and there’s _nothing_ wrong with that.” 

“But I can’t undergo the trials, there’s…” Anakin took a steadying breath. “There’s no one left to-to…” he trailed off. 

“The purpose of the Trials was to test both your skills and your judgment. You ascended into Knighthood after your Trial of the Flesh with count Dooku, but your Trial of the Spirit was overlooked. I can safely say that you’ve proven to me that your spirit is on the right path. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve seen enough, you’ve certainly done enough…to me, you’re a Master.”

There was a long moment of silence between them, and Obi-Wan sat back while the young man made a study of his lightsaber. Anakin had always held his weapon in high regard, wielding it with ferocity and pride, but he could sense none of that now. Instead, there was a kind of reverent respect and a hushed acceptance. It was a far cry from the man he had known a year ago, who would have brandished the saber with a sense of entitlement and expectation. Anakin was no longer a man of selfish whims, but he would still need to be careful with his emotions. Those with great concentrations of the Force were more prone to emotion because their senses and feelings were heightened. It was something they couldn’t help, and Obi-Wan had never held it against him. He could no more stop feeling than the suns would rise and set over Tatooine, but he _could_ control and shield himself. A soft _*click*_ indicated that Anakin had attached his lightsaber to his belt, and Obi-Wan dragged himself out of his thoughts to see him getting up and clearing away the radio, their teacups, and his datapadd. 

“Going to bed?” he asked idly.

“Thinking about it” was the response, accompanied by a groan as Anakin slid down the vinyl edge of the couch to sit on the floor next to Obi-Wan. He toyed idly with the edge of his cloak as the younger man nestled his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes. “You do know my chances of livelihood don’t extend very far past victory, don’t you?” he asked lazily.

“Don’t say that” Obi-Wan muttered. 

“If I’m not imprisoned I’ll be executed.” 

“Anakin-”

“-I’m okay with it” was the firm interruption. “Once there’s peace, there won’t be much use for me anyway.” 

“….And what am I supposed to do without you to boss around?”

“You’ll think of something” Anakin yawned. “You could always get quit being a Jedi, get married or something.” 

“Oh, yes, because some poor unsuspecting woman would so desperately want to _marry_ this scarred, traumatized, institutionalized mess of a human being.” 

“You’d be su’rised” was the garbled response, his conversational partner being close to falling asleep.

“You’re speaking from experience, I assume?”

“Ha, no, Padme…married me ‘cause…‘m an idiot.”

“Go to bed Anakin.”

“Mmm…comfortable here…”

Obi-Wan sighed exasperatedly and looked out the window with a kind of resigned acceptance. The occasional hum of a speeder was the only sign that life continued on outside their small bubble of serenity. Soon, they’d have to rejoin it, but for now he was content to remain and rest. Cloud City was coming alive with its traditional evening festivities, but the only thing that mattered to Obi-Wan was the soft head of wavy blonde hair that rested on his shoulder. And he told himself that it was just for now…just until they could reclaim their lives and move on into a better future; but some part of him whispered they were falling…though to where he could not say.

__________________________________________________

“I’m sorry to see you two go.”

Standing on the steps of Isil’s shop, Obi-Wan felt a sincere amount of guilt run through him at the old woman’s words. He had enjoyed his time in Cloud City, particularly when it came to working at the holobook store. There was something peaceful involved in sorting titles and organizing orders. He would miss the customers they saw on a daily basis, and he’d grown used to hearing their news when they came in to drink tea and flip through the holomags. Isil was kind, accommodating and fair. She’d never docked their wage and she had never criticized them for any of their methods. Instead, she’d preferred to let them go their own way and explore various means of commerce and distribution on their own. They’d given her two weeks’ notice, and had worked the entirety of the time up until the final evening before their departure.

“We have a gift for you” Anakin said gently.

Really, it’d been all Anakin’s idea. The droid was beautiful, with chrome plating and simple command switches perfect for someone without the power of sight. It was programmed to understand the layout of Isil’s shop, including her filing methods and customer database. If necessary, it could brew and serve assorted teas and had a spectacular conversational vocabulary in six different languages. The hover mechanisms had been particularly tricky, but they’d been necessary to reach the often high shelves that were out of Isil’s reach. Anakin had spent hours and hours working on it when he wasn’t working or training, determined to get it done before they had to leave. Normally, he was less-than enthusiastic about Anakin’s mechanical work, but he couldn’t be critical of an act of kindness. 

“This is TILDA, she’s a touch-based intuitional literary droid with astromech features. She can help where we have to leave off. She’s built especially for your needs.” 

_“Oh”_ Isil breathed, running her fingers over the chrome surface of the droid. “She’s beautiful.” 

“Thank you” Tilda replied loftily, and Obi-Wan chuckled. 

“We are grateful for your generosity” he remarked, bowing. “May the Force be with you.” 

“And with you, Master Jedi” she said sagely, surprising them. 

They left her then, and returned to the apartment to settle their rent with the landlord and collect whatever belongings they might have accumulated during their stay. Rather than wear their white robes off-planet-which would have looked very strange-they found a vendor that offered traditional-looking travelers’ robes in shades of brown, tan, and black. They were pricier, but it was well worth it for the sake of anonymity. The rest of the evening was spent preparing for their departure and securing transport off-planet. They’d checked in the system for Kaelo, but he’d left nearly three weeks previous and wasn’t expected to return for half a year. Eventually, they settled on a traditional civilian transport freighter headed to Alderaan. If they wanted information, Obi-Wan was sure that Bail was the one who would be able to give it to them. Rather than send word of their arrival ahead, he surmised that an impromptu meeting was for the best. As much as he trusted Organa, he didn’t know anything of those he surrounded himself with on his home planet, and he wanted to be as careful as possible. 

Anakin was unable to sleep, and as a result, kept Obi-Wan up with him. They spent the majority of the night on a civilian-available version of Starnet; which showed vehicle transports on major highways between planets. They were taking the Corellian Trade Spine up to where it ran close to the Hydian Way; both of which were major traffic routes for the Empire. Though using fake identities, it brought them uncomfortably close to Coruscant. Nevertheless, they’d both agreed that buying their own ship would be needless and wasteful of what precious money they had to spend. Each had made a great effort to be spendthrift and cost-aware during their stay in Cloud City. They’d known that whatever money the earned might very well have to last them until they located Sidious, so they’d been careful to salvage whatever they could. Anakin insisted he could still sell his ring should the need arise, but Obi-Wan was loathe to get so desperate again. Pawning that ring for a fair price was just as likely to get them robbed as it was to help them out of a difficult situation. 

At 0600 they left the apartment key on the desk at the front office along with a short thank you note, and by 0630 they were boarding the transport shuttle with dozens of other passengers. They settled for a seat near the cantina, where Obi-Wan wandered in to see what they had to offer before returning to the seating area. By the time he’d observed all there was to take in, Anakin was fast asleep, a holomag sporting colorful speeders in his lap. Smiling fondly, the older man put the mag back into its holding slot next to the window and pulled his communicator out of his pocket. He fiddled with it for a couple minutes, watching as the display screen flickered in and out of existence before tossing it on the table in front of them and pulling Anakin’s datapadd out of the bag settled between them. He fiddled with the command keys for a while before he was able to get a faint signal from an interstellar broadcast transmitting the scores for a distant pod race on the Outer Rim. It was something Anakin would have been interested in, and he listened long enough to get names and numbers before switching over to a text-based news site with a particularly interesting article on his home planet, Stewjon. 

All in all, it was a rather uneventful journey. Anakin woke up at some point mid-flight and wandered into the cantina to get something to eat. He came back with some assorted fruit, which he shared with Obi-Wan as they briefly conferred over the pod racing scores. Nearing Alderaan they ran into a magnetic storm which threw them off-course for about thirty minutes, and made Obi-Wan rather ill but they eventually reached the mountainous, grassy planet in considerably good time. It wasn’t until they were descending from the exit ramp that they ran into a real problem. Stepping off onto the landing platform, Obi-Wan froze in his tracks.

Standing before them, with a calm but solemn expression on his ancient face, was Grand Master Yoda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random Clarifications:**  
>  mesh'la-means beautiful


	9. Soulstruck

Obi-Wan felt-rather than saw-Anakin’s immediate descent into panic. 

They’d spent the better part of two months meditating, working, eating, and sleeping together; of course he was going to feel such a dramatic shift in the young man’s signatures. His psyche flashed from surprise, to terror, to defensive rage so quickly he knew instinctively that if Anakin chose to act he’d be helpless to stop him. Yoda was a shock, for both of them, and he didn’t like the odds he was facing of things going sour. The Dark Side of the force yawned across the Force Bond, and he caught what little of it he could; shoving it back into nothingness with a firm and dismissive mental gesture, but the rest of it was up to Anakin. For a long time he seemed to teeter between total loss of control and discipline, hovering like a misguided blade of grass balanced across the edge of a razor-sharp knife. Then-with a swiftness that was utterly staggering-Anakin’s shields snapped back into place, his hand let go of his lightsaber hilt, and his expression schooled itself into neutrality. A sense of calm collectiveness and acceptance flowed between them like cool spring water against a parched desert and Obi-Wan breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. 

“Master Yoda” he said smoothly. “I did not expect to see you here.” 

“Sensed your coming, I have” Yoda said in his gravelly voice. “Watch your progress from afar, I do.” His ancient gaze focused on Anakin, who bowed in deference. “Greatly changed you are since we last met, young Skywalker.” 

“If I am changed, it is not of my own doing, but Obi-Wan’s” was the serene response. 

“Hmm…come with me, you both will. Much to discuss, we have.” 

With that Yoda turned and began to make a slow but steady path away from the landing pad, his staff tapping on the solid surface an achingly nostalgic sound. A murmuring vein of uncertainty traced its way across the bond and Obi-Wan sent a whisper of confirmation back, picking up their single bag and following the elderly Master with Anakin by his side. Alderaan was a picture of beauty. Great, snowcapped mountains rose above rolling hills with lush coniferous forests; spilling down into oceans, lakes, and rivers. Before them, the white and gold stone of the Royal Palace glowed in the afternoon light; casting shadows with its tall winding spires and magnificent domes. Obi-Wan was pleased to see that Anakin was somewhat enthralled with the scenery, his eyes drinking in whatever sights he could; an expression of wonderment on his face. There were few planets in the Galaxy with sources of such wonder, Naboo being one of them that his young companion had seen. Alderaan’s majesty was noble where’st Padme’s home planet was soft and serene. There was an ancient watchfulness that seemed to span across countless eons captured in the thrum of a single city, trapped in both the past and the future. Eventually, their path led them through a winding causeway of glorious gardens; a multitude of flowers throwing up scents as the hush of numerous fountains sang in little nooks and crannies. 

They passed through a set of magnificent wooden doors, which opened automatically and hissed shut behind them. Finding themselves facing a myriad of brightly lit hallways and marble flooring that seemed to stretch on into forever, the two men paused; but hastened to catch up with Yoda as he hopped aboard what Obi-Wan recognized as his favored hover chair and began to float up an enormous set of stairs. They followed at a distance, keeping an eye at their backs by force of habit and glancing at every opened door they passed by to check for hidden threats. Eventually, they entered a small, semi-circular balcony overlooking the abundant gardens. Low, padded seats ringed the edge of the intricately carved rail and it was here that Yoda bid them sit with a simple gesture. A door to their right was partially opened, and Obi-wan could hear the murmur of voices through it, though he could not discern what they were saying. Anakin sat more slowly then he, and the sleeve of his cloak brushed Obi-Wan’s as he attempted to get comfortable in his apprehensive state. Once they were sufficiently settled, the Grand Master began to speak.

“Great crimes against the Jedi and the Republic you have committed, young Skywalker” he said gravely. “Aided the Sith in destroying a great legacy, you have.” 

“I take full responsibility for my actions” Anakin replied in a voice that was surprisingly level.

Yoda _‘hmmm’ed’_ and his gaze appeared to grow distant for a moment. 

“The cries of the Jedi I could feel, eons away and across the galaxy” he continued. “In the Force, echo their souls do, always here they are…” His ears wiggled momentarily before stilling again. “Yet cry for revenge they do not, for anger is not the way of the Jedi.” He sighed and shook his head. “Your struggles as a Jedi we ignored, your pain we ignored…at a great cost.”

“Anakin has made great strides in the past few months” Obi-Wan remarked.

Yoda favored him with a shrewd look.

“Sensed Young Skywalker’s changes, I have…great his progress has been.” He looked sad for a moment. “However, forget your crimes the people of the Galaxy will not. Understand, they will not. If choose to come out of hiding you do, prepared to face the consequences you must be.” 

“I unders-” Anakin began, but Obi-Wan cut him off.

“-What might those consequences be?”

“Imprisonment, the people may want; execution, they may demand. Protectors of the people, the Jedi are, but the law we are not.” 

“But what _is_ the law?” Anakin pressed. “Darth Sidious has claimed sovereignty over all.”

“Hmm…destroy the Sith we must…reclaim the Republic we shall. Once restored the peace is, a trial you shall have. For now, a Jedi you remain.” He gestured towards the door to the right. “A surprise Senator Organa has for you, speak to Master Obi-Wan alone, I will.” 

Anakin rose swiftly and bowed hesitantly, slipping through the partially opened entryway and disappearing into the corridor beyond. Yoda was silent while his footsteps receded, he then turned his gaze to Obi-Wan.

“A great thing you have accomplished….Master Kenobi. To bring someone back from the Dark Side, no small feat it is, very painful it must have been.” 

And so it was that Obi-Wan recounted his entire journey with Anakin. Starting with his surrender on Mustafar to their desperate stop on the planet Void. Speaking of their time on Tatooine was hard, as he was sure Anakin would have preferred to keep the worst of it private, but he was hesitant to leave anything out. Mentioning Cloud City brought about the soft sting of nostalgia, and he almost wished they could have stayed there; languishing in their little apartment and working for Isil in the bookshop. Yoda stayed silent throughout his account, his expression unchanging, the only indication he was truly listening the occasional twitch of his ears.

“Long and hard your journey has been” he remarked once Obi-Wan was finished. “Given up greater men have on a task such as yours.” 

“Anakin has a good heart” Obi-Wan said wearily. “He was just lost.” 

“Close you two have become” was the gravelly response, tinged with warning. “Careful you must be, or attachment will be both your falls this time, I fear.”

“I care about Anakin” the Jedi Master admitted. “But both of us know our duty to the Republic, we won’t let anything stand in our way.” 

“Good” was the short reply, and a soft hum from Yoda’s chair indicated that it was in motion once more. “Come, old friend. Happy your former padawan is, eager to show you something…I sense.” 

Following the slow but steady forward motion of the Grand Master, Obi-Wan was curious to see what he could possibly be talking about. They took the same doorway out as Anakin had, and descended to the left and straight before a small staircase dipped down into a small, sunny living space with an ovular door. Before them, they were faced with the view of Aldera lake; sparkling in the now-late afternoon light. Golden trees rustled in a soft breeze coming across the vast expanse of water as sun rippled over the waves. A large, white couch followed the circumference of the space, adorned with numerous pillows in soft shades of violet and pink. A low glass table sported a silvery tea set and the rich scent of cinnamon permeated the room, making Obi-Wan rather weak in the knees; it had been a while since he’d had some truly decent tea. Seated upon the couch was Anakin, and in his arms was a tiny bundle of human that was staring at him like he was the entire world. His organic hand traced the curve of a softly pink cheek, and the biggest smile Obi-Wan had ever seen was plastered across his face. Sitting next to him was Bail, who was holding another bundle that was veritably glaring daggers at its sibling for getting all of their father’s attention. Reluctant to break the moment, but dying to be close all the same, Obi-Wan crossed the space between door and couch and sat down beside the young man as quietly as possible. Try as he might, inquisitive bright blue eyes snapped towards him the minute he’d settled in, and a toothless grin left him utterly smitten down to his toes. Anakin, noticing the baby’s change of focus, smiled amusedly.

“This is Luke” he said quietly. “He likes you, huh? _Wata footoo, stuka Ur-Damin Kenobi.”_

“Oh, I’m an Uncle now am I?” Obi-Wan remarked idly, unable to keep the smile off his face as Anakin handed him Luke. “His eyes are so much like yours.” Luke cooed happily and he grinned. “Hello, you like to be the center of attention I see.”

“Of course!” Anakin scoffed, taking the other baby from Bail, earning him a squeal of unadulterated delight. “This is Leia” he added, wincing as a strand of his hair was caught in a chubby fist and yanked. “She’s meaner than Luke.”

“Very force sensitive, your children are” Yoda commented, having floated over to the window to enjoy the view. “Great Jedi they will become.” 

Anakin opened his mouth, as if to refute Yoda’s comment, but seemed to think better of it and instead looked down at the floor with a troubled expression. Leia, upset by her father’s abrupt change of focus, wailed loudly ‘till he appeared to jerk out of his reverie and murmured something soft and nonsensical. Eventually, she quieted and contented herself with sucking idly on her fist, gazing out the window at the clouds. 

“Obi-Wan’s got the hang of things” Bail commented good-naturedly, and the Jedi looked down to see that Luke had fallen asleep in the space of a few spare minutes, tucked into the crook of his arm. “Good to see you, by the way” he added. “Yoda told me we’d be expecting you at some point.”

“I’m glad you’re safe” Obi-Wan replied. “I was worried you might have trouble getting out of Coruscant.” 

“It was close, but we made it” Bail replied. “Lucky thing too, or I don’t think we’d have been there when Padme arrived.” Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin at the mention of his deceased wife, but he was far too absorbed with cuddling Leia to have noticed. “Would you like some tea? I’ve seen you eyeing the kettle since you came in the room.”  
“I’d love some” Obi-Wan chuckled. “But first I think I’d better find a place to put Luke, I don’t think Anakin would forgive me if I spilled hot tea all over his son.”

“Take him, I will” Yoda remarked, hovering away from the windowsill and motioning with his tridactyl fingers. 

It was certainly a strange sight; Luke looked immense compared to when Anakin had been holding him, but he settled into the Grand Master’s chair and closed his eyes like he’d been there before. The two of them floated back to the window while Bail poured the tea and offered it around. Obi-Wan got in two good sips before Leia grew bored of sitting with her father and started eyeing him with a curiosity that was as ferocious as it was adorable. He endured several minutes of very painful beard-pulling before she too magically fell asleep, snoring quite a bit louder than her brother. 

“You’ve got a talent” Bail commented, picking up the sleeping baby and transporting her to a low-lying rocker he hadn’t noticed before. 

“I had siblings” Obi-Wan murmured, picking up his tea again. “Granted, I didn’t get to know them very well, but I know my way around infants.”

“You would have been a bossy brother” Anakin muttered, picking at a chocolate-covered mewburry. “Probably a tattle-tale too.” 

“I’ll have you know, my mother told me I was a perfect child” Obi-Wan replied loftily. 

“Yeah, because you weren’t _there.”_

They fell to a good-natured squabbling, and were soon oblivious to the world around them. Neither of them saw Bail’s expression, which was mildly amused and strangely knowing. And they certainly didn’t see Yoda, who looked slightly sad and very concerned…

___________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t want either of them to be Jedi.”

They were sitting out in front of the palace, on a stone bench in a little alcove surrounded by a mountain of greenery. Above them, a wooden lattice sported an intricate lacing of white and yellow blooms shaped like trumpets; curling in and out of their structural support in bunches thicker than a cluster of newborn stars in a stellar nursery. The display went on before them to end over a fountain that bubbled up from the ground from six small holes; shooting only about three feet high before rebounding into the system with a cacophonous splash. Around and beyond the fountain a tile mosaic of muted color continued on to the main path in unpredictable swirls. Soft, golden spheres of light floated through the evening air, providing visibility to those who might wish to wander during the dim twilight hours. 

Once the twins were put to bed and tucked away, Bail had shown them each their respective rooms. Both were spacious and grandiose; a sharp contrast to their humble apartment in Cloud City. Obi-Wan suspected he would feel much like a marble rattling about in a giant cage. Yoda had instructed them to take the rest of the evening off, and that they would begin to try and formulate a plan of action the next day. They’d eaten a dinner that was utterly magnificent, though Anakin mostly attacked the fruit, something he was rather prone to do even at a young age. They met Breha Organa, the current Queen; who seemed pleased to have them in the palace. The husband and wife pair had soon excused themselves to spend some time alone together, and Yoda disappeared to meditate in his room with a brief ’goodnight’. This left them to wander down into the gardens, unaccustomed to retiring so early in the evening. Understanding that Anakin was speaking of the twins, Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully.

“I understand.” 

Anakin sighed and kicked his legs up onto the bench, rotating his torso ‘till his head fell into Obi-Wan’s lap. Closing his eyes, he folded his hands on his stomach and appeared content to stay there for an extended amount of time. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you’d like me better if I was stuffed and feathered like a pillow.”

The younger man snorted.

“No thanks, then I’d have to carry you everywhere.”

He told himself he couldn’t help the hand that descended to card through the wealth of blond waves spread across his lap. It was habitual-automatic-ingrained from when his former padawan had been a child and seeking some kind of comfort. Forcing himself to concentrate, he returned to the subject at hand.

“I hope it doesn’t come as a shock to know that you may not have any say in their future.”

“I know” was the weary reply. “But I want them to be loved, and to know what it is to love.”

“Children raised at the Temple weren’t unloved, simply taught to refrain from forming attachments. The Jedi concept of love is selfless and unhindered by possessiveness.” Anakin grunted noncommittally and he smiled crookedly. “Still, I understand that you want your children to grow up knowing affection and comfort.” 

“It’s not that I don’t see the benefits of living life as a Jedi” the younger man commented, opening his eyes and turning his head to gaze at the flowered lattice. “I just know that the consequences of failure in the life of a Jedi are much harsher than those of a civilian.” 

“I don’t disagree with you” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking an idle thumb over Anakin’s brow. “I just hope you’re prepared for when your wishes aren’t acknowledged or honored.”

There was a silence between them, and they watched as a cloud of luminescent bugs rose from the confines of the lake to ascend into the sky. They twinkled like thousands of golden stars and hummed a tune that was soft and melodic, though it only consisted of about four keys. The last bit of birdsong was fading over the tops of the gold-imbued trees and it was swiftly becoming pitch-dark, save for the floating globes of light that traversed the gardens. Two had come to hover next to their bench, as if waiting for when they got up so they could guide them back to the palace. Far off in the distance, the soft whisper of a speeder taking off was the only interruption to their peaceful evening repose. In some ways, it was achingly beautiful; but at the same time Obi-Wan felt it unnecessarily grandiose. Both of them were men of humble beginnings, and being surrounded by extravagance and finery was neither man’s cup of tea so-to-speak. It was some time before they spoke again, both appreciating different aspects of nature in their own remote bubbles of mental solitude. Anakin finally broke the sanctity of the moment by yawning explosively and reaching up to grasp the hand that wasn’t stroking his hair; threading deceptively slim fingers through it and bringing it down to rest against his chest. 

“Are we going to meditate?” he queried, blinking sleepily.

Gently, Obi-Wan reclaimed his hand, a wan smile on his face.

“We can’t keep doing this Anakin…you’re grown up now.”

“Just tonight” was the soft supplication, accompanied by begging blue eyes. “Just one last time.”

As they slipped into unconsciousness, his meditative psyche blazed into existence and instinctively searched for Anakin....and Obi-Wan knew this wasn’t going to be the last time. As their Soul Signatures wrapped around each other ‘till they were one unrecognizable nuance of Light; he knew they were lost. But he’d never known such bliss in the confine’s of another’s soul…

…he could only hope it wouldn’t be the death of both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random Clarifications:**  
>  Wata footoo, stuka Ur-Damin Kenobi-Here fellow, see your uncle kenobi (hutteese).
> 
> **A/N:**  
>  I would have had this out yesterday but i fell asleep at my computer sometime in the afternoon and then other daily demands required i neglect my pc for a while. I know some of you may disagree with how yoda handles anakin, but realistically, for him to engage in combat with him goes against pretty much everything the jedi teach, and yoda's been around for 700+ years at this point, so i imagine he's got his own personal feelings pretty well under wraps; for him to act out of spite or violence just wouldn't really make any sense. 
> 
> Regarding the romance aspect...I'm trying to make it seem as if they're just slowly falling into it. Realistically, it's the only way i can formulate it working out on both sides.


	10. As Natural As Breathing

If there was anything Obi-Wan was grateful for during their stay in the Palace, it was the opportunity to relax without constantly looking over his shoulder. Organa’s home was well-guarded, though it had not always been so during more peaceful times. Alderaan was a primarily pacifist planet, and it was only since the rise of the Empire that they’d acknowledged their need to defend themselves properly. Still, it was only the exterior of the palace that boasted any type of guard, and the interior was monitored over a variety of security systems and countermeasures. Traffic in and out of the city was scarce, as most citizens had deemed it safer to stay within the parameters of the populace rather than venture out into space. Occasionally, a freighter bearing passengers seeking refuge would veritably crash-land on the landing pad. Yoda was often present during these affairs, overseeing the outpour of destitute and despairing passengers to new homes and new futures. Bail himself was often away dealing with matters of the Senate. Despite his knowledge that Palpatine was a Sith, he had voted for his ascension to the title of Emperor in order to remain embroiled in political matters for as long as possible; his reasoning being that the more they knew the better prepared they were. 

Obi-Wan spent much of his time in conversation with Master Yoda. Both of them wanted to eliminate Darth Sidious as soon as possible, before the mechanisms of his tyrannical Empire spiraled completely out of any hope of containment. Still, each recognized the need for caution and subtlety. It was eventually agreed that the best time to attempt to strike would be when Palpatine was on Coruscant, either for a meeting of the Senate or another political matter. As much as they would have liked to discover his ‘secret weapon’ as people were calling it, it was better that they confront him in a familiar place where his means of escape were limited. Afterwards, they would be able to examine his nefarious agendas at their leisure. Obi-Wan was surprised when Yoda announced that he would be coming with them, but ultimately bowed to his decision. None but he had ever physically engaged in combat with the Sith, and any knowledge he could impart regarding his methods was incredibly valuable. 

“Comfortable using his lightsaber, he is not” Yoda commented. “Using Dark methods of the Force, he is.” 

Their main concern was-of course-that he’d use them against each other. The possibility of him killing one of them to enrage another was very high, especially when it came to Anakin. Despite the fact that he and Yoda didn’t always see eye-to-eye, the young man still felt a great amount of respect and adoration for the Grand Master, and he didn’t like to think what might happen if Sidious should strike him down. 

Anakin was present for their meetings with Yoda, his countenance impassive and attentive. Yoda still treated him with a kind of coddling indifference, but there was a newfound respect and acknowledgement between them that warmed Obi-Wan’s heart. When they weren’t speculating different ways to confront the Sith, the young man was almost constantly with his children. He took them out on different days, with the Queen’s permission, and Obi-Wan often found them in the gardens or sitting out on the lake. Luke absolutely adored Anakin, and often cried for him if he wasn’t within visual distance. The to of them would wile away the hours sitting by a fish-shaped fountain while Anakin regaled him with stories from his youth. Bundled in a wealth of soft blankets, Luke would sit in quiet adulation, gazing up into his father’s face with an expression of rapture. He often caught him talking about Padme, a soft and sad look on his face as he described his child’s mother and her various successes in the Senate. Leia was harder to win over; she had a temper as fiery as her father’s and she wasn’t accustomed to welcoming new faces. Still, Obi-Wan’s former padawan showered her with trinkets and affection, whether it be a flower he’d found in the garden or a kiss on the cheek, which was often reciprocated with a sharp yank of his hair. Obi-Wan joined them when he could, though he was quick to recognize when father and child were having a private moment. Both children had Force Signatures that were staggering, though nothing close to their father’s…who veritably glowed wherever he went to those who were sensitive to such things. Obi-Wan learned just how strong their force signatures were when Leia-in a discomfited fit-threw her bottle halfway across the grand dining hall without using her hands and Luke calmly floated it back to her with a serene expression on his face. 

They had been in the palace a week when the Queen informed them that Organa was returning with news from the Senate. Knowing none of it was bound to be good, Obi-Wan hastened to inform Anakin, who was playing with the twins in the nursery. The room in question was just off the Queen’s chambers, and layered in what seemed like miles of silk and fluffy fabrics. A bright array of toys were arranged on various shelves, some beeping or rocking somnolently as he entered the room and glanced around for his charge. Anakin was rocking a very angry looking Leia with a harried expression on his face; and Luke was on his back on a play mat, an interactive mobile clutched between his fists. His former padawan rose as he approached, smiling wanly. Beckoning idly, Obi-Wan took Leia, who glared at him for a moment before stuffing her fist in her mouth with a concentrated enthusiasm. Humming an idle tune, he made a slow but steady path to her crib, watching as her eyes began to drift shut and she fell into an easy slumber. 

“Senator Organa should be here any minute” Obi-Wan whispered when he was sure she was asleep. “I thought you might be interested in what he has to say.” 

A movement in the doorway caught his attention, and he nodded at Bail, who had obviously come to check on the children before their discussion. His friend waved back and pressed a finger to his lips, indicating that he was going to come in and check on the twins. Anakin, who could not see Organa from his angle, swept by to place Luke in his crib; placing an idle kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek as he did so.

“Thank you” he murmured. “I thought I’d never get her to sleep.”

Without further ado, he turned and exited the room, pausing only to greet Organa before disappearing down the hall. Smiling absentmindedly, Obi-Wan set about clearing away the various toys on the floor, setting them on their respective shelves before turning to look at Bail, who was eyeing him with a peculiar expression. Shrugging off a sudden sensation of foreboding, the Jedi Master indicated that perhaps they should leave, and after briefly looking in on the slumbering duo, Organa followed him. They’d walked down several staircases and taken a corridor to the main conference room before his friend said anything at all.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Frowning, Obi-Wan paused and turned to face Bail, who had also stopped walking.

“…What do you mean?”

The dark-haired Senator smirked and folded his arms.

“Anakin kissed you, Obi-Wan.” It took a few moments for the words to sink in. When they did, he was sure that his blush encompassed the entirety of his body, from the roots of his hair to his toes. Kriffing _hell_ , how had he not noticed that?! “I take it that’s the first time it happened” was the dry response to his reaction. 

“I-I didn’t-” he spluttered. 

“-You didn’t notice” Bail interrupted. “I could tell. I don’t think he did either, he did it like it was as natural as breathing.” 

“We’re-we’re not-”

“-I _know”_ was the impatient interruption. “But you two have gotten close. I’ve seen it, Yoda’s seen it. Sometimes it’s like you’re one living, breathing entity in two separate bodies.” 

Thinking furiously, Obi-Wan tried to trace back to when things had gotten so intimate between them without his noticing. Yes, they meditated with each other, yes they’d spent a good amount of time with each other. But he’d never felt romantically inclined towards his former Padawan….had he? He’d never had time to consider feeling anything other than friendship for anyone his entire life, he’d been taught to avoid attachment, so why was he suddenly allowing Anakin to kiss him like they’d been courting each other for years on end?

“I…I don’t know how this happened” he muttered, putting a hand over his face. 

Bail was sympathetic.

“You’ve known him for over a decade, Obi-Wan. You’ve battled together, slept together, trained together, eaten together. You brought him back from the brinks of Darkness with nothing but your own strength of will and his determination to survive. He’s comforted you and you’ve comforted him.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Honestly, I’ve always been surprised it doesn’t happen between more padawans and their Masters.” Obi-Wan looked at him incredulously and he chuckled. “Look, I get that Jedi are supposed to be masters of their feelings and all that, but the relationships you form are so…inherently _deep_. I’ve seen padawans and Jedi Knights who have gone literally insane after their Masters died. It’s like part of them…disappears. I saw some of it in you when Qui-Gon passed away-I know you didn’t have a relationship like that-” he assured him when he opened his mouth to speak. “-But, the love between a Jedi padawan and a Master is like…almost like a two partners. Not only that, but you have the added depth of a mental link that you establish almost as soon as training starts. It’s not just in your minds…it’s in your souls. Not even regular, non-Jedi couples have that….not human ones anyway.” 

“We’re not taught to feel this way” Obi-Wan said wearily, lowering his hand and tucking it into his robes. “It’s forbidden, and dangerous. Anakin _knows_ the consequences of attachment, probably more than I do.” He shook his head. “Besides…I’m…I’m…”

“…A man?” Bail finished for him, and he nodded awkwardly. “Honestly, it’s been so many years since gender issues were a prominent subject of debate…hundreds of years really. Anakin likely hasn’t been raised to consider parameters of attraction based on gender, he just knows what he feels. You’re more conscious of it because of your upbringing in the Temple, but he only got there when he was nine. He’s seen things you probably haven’t even dreamed of on Tatooine.” 

“I have to talk to him” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I’m no judge or jury” Bail said idly as they resumed walking once more. “I understand your feelings, probably better than either of you. I’m a married man and I love my wife, I have the privilege of having feelings of possession and adoration. I honestly don’t think attachment is a terrible thing, but like you I’ve seen what it does to Jedi. Maybe it’s because you don’t have time for it, or because your Force Sensitivity doesn’t allow for it, but I think it’s beautiful.” 

“You may think that” the Jedi Master said darkly. “But for us…it’s a death sentence.”

________________________________________________________

Their meeting lasted for an hour, and while the news wasn’t good, it was helpful all the same. Bail had gained some insight into Palpatine’s schedule, and estimated he would return to Coruscant in three weeks time to oversee a major Senate decision regarding the state of the Hydian Way. There had been some small skirmishes along it regarding trade, but rumor had it the Emporer wanted it clear to move a large amount of Imperial Troops to a secreted location. During the meeting, Anakin sat close to him, seemingly with no conscious awkwardness of what had transpired between them. Obi-Wan eventually was forced to acknowledged that Organa was probably right, and he had no idea of what he had done. For him, the affair was torture. He was constantly aware of Anakin’s scent as he’d never been before, of how it was soft and slightly musky with a distinct hint of evergreen. The fall of his hair was suddenly incomprehensively distracting; a soft and subtly luminescent gold that fell to his shoulders. His shields suddenly felt permeable and unstable, and he was so focused on keeping his feelings and emotions at bay that he was sure he missed half of the conference. It didn’t help that Yoda kept shooting inquisitive and disapproving frowns in his direction. By the time the meeting was over, he was nearly reduced to a gibbering wreck; but his shields held and he retained the majority of his composure. After requesting that Anakin meet him at some point that evening to talk, he practically fled the room; desperate to meditate and clear his head. He spent the rest of the afternoon in meditation in a secluded area of the castle, and by the time dinner was ready he was reasonably stable and composed. The meal was a quiet affair, and Anakin spent much of it catering to Luke and Leia, which was somewhat of a relief. It gave Obi-Wan the opportunity to concentrate on his meal and on small snippets of conversation with Bail and Yoda alike. Afterwards, his former padawan left to put the twins to bed and was gone for the better part of an hour. Obi-Wan found himself sitting down in a seat on the balcony that they had had their first conversation with Yoda. The sun was going down and the silhouette of the palace spires cast a ghostly shadow across the lake, which was unnervingly still.

It was sometime later that the soft tread of Anakin’s boots on the flagstones announced his arrival. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan turned to face him, allowing a fond smile to travel across his lips. The young man’s eyes were curious and inquisitive, but there was also a tenderness in them that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge. Now that he did, his insides felt like they were slowly but surely melting into a puddle of jawa juice. 

“You wanted to talk about something?” the younger man queried, sitting beside him. 

Obi-Wan hesitated, suddenly selfishly reluctant to share his misgivings. A part of him wanted to let it continue…to see how far they would go before one of them felt forced to acknowledge what was going on. The sensible part of him stamped such foolishness to the ground, reminding himself of his Vows and his responsibilities. 

“Anakin…do you know what you did today in the nursery?”

His fellow Jedi looked puzzled, tilting his head in contemplation as he thought back.

“You put Leia to sleep…and we went to the meeting?” he queried. Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head. “…We talked to Bail?”

When his former padawan continued to look baffled, he relented.

“Anakin, you kissed me.”

For a moment, nothing about his companion’s expression changed; he continued to look confused and thoughtful. For a moment, Obi-Wan was sure that he didn’t remember doing it….then, slowly, his features morphed into a countenance of horror. All the color drained from his face and he went utterly still. Alarmed, Obi-Wan reached out and put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, but he didn’t acknowledge it. This was not the reaction he’d been expecting. He thought that Anakin might be embarrassed, or laugh it off as a joke. Instead, he was looking like he’d murdered someone in cold blood. After several tension-imbued moments, he rose, though his expression didn’t change. 

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan began. 

“-I’m going to bed” was the sharp cutoff. 

“Anakin it’s alri-”

“-Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”

And it was with that abrupt missive that the young man disappeared back into the palace, the door to the balcony shutting behind him with a sharp snap. Stunned, Obi-Wan sat back and stared blankly at the vista before him. Well, that was that. Their friendship was over, or so it seemed. He’d never known Anakin to dismiss him so fiercely and thoroughly. It was like a physical blow to his gut, and it left him shivering and disoriented. It wasn’t as if _he_ had kissed Anakin, he’d just wanted to sort out whatever was going on between them, to clarify their boundaries yet reassure the young man that he would always be there for him. And yet it seemed that his former padawan wanted none of that, preferring to walk away from the issue without resolving anything. Reaching out through the Bond, Obi-Wan could feel nothing, indicating that Anakin had closed his mind to him entirely. It was astonishing, really. Usually it was he who was closed off and unwelcoming, but now the tables were turned and he had no idea what to do about it. Anakin was volatile and emotional, and the one time that he’d wanted to address their emotions, he was utterly unresponsive. Putting his head in his hands, Obi-Wan contemplating going to Yoda but immediately pushed the idea out of his mind. Yoda would only remind them that attachment was forbidden, and that the best thing he could do was focus on his duties as a Jedi and let Anakin sort out his ideas for himself. It felt like hours that he sat there, trying to figure out the best course of action. Alderaan had descended into night, and the bugs that rose from the lake had long ascended and gone. 

The door to the balcony hissed open, and Obi-Wan raised his head, half-hoping that Anakin had come back to continue their conversation; but it was Bail and the expression on his face was utterly terrible. Suffused by a feeling of dread, Obi-Wan stood and schooled his expression into neutrality.

“You should come immediately, Anakin is dying.”

A moment more, and he staggered, hit by the weight of his friend’s declaration as if struck by a ton of rocks.

_“What?”_

“…Yoda felt a disturbance in the Force, and went to check on him in his rooms. He got a hold of frosjafeuel…stars knows how. I don’t know what triggered him to drink half a gallon of it, but he’s unconscious and his vitals are shutting down. The healers and Yoda are doing all they can, but it doesn’t look good.” 

And for the thousandth time in the span of but a few months, Obi-Wan wondered if Fate was truly as cruel as it was rumored to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random Clarifications:**  
>  frosjafeuel: made up. combination of the old norse word _frjōsa_ and the old english spelling of fuel; _feuel_. Essentially, fancy antifreeze. 
> 
> **A/N:** working on the next chapter as you read. i know cliffhangers are no fun. thanks for reading!
> 
> **R &R ******


	11. Anything Else

It was a boggling sensation, wanting to strangle someone who was possibly on the brinks of life and death. 

Obi-Wan reflected that this was probably not the healthiest of emotions, but it seemed to be the only urge at the core of his consciousness at the moment, so he acknowledged it and sent it out into the Force…where it-of course-came bouncing right back again. He didn’t feel any urge to weep or turn to despair, which was probably what a normal person would feel…so he’d instead turned to a sort of accepting furiousness. Yoda-strangely-had not reprimanded him for his anger, and instead was acting unusually understanding and sympathetic. It was a ludicrous notion, but Obi-Wan liked to think he was feeling rather the same. He couldn’t think of anyone in the history of the Order that had caused as much confusion and grief as Anakin Skywalker. He’d managed to destroy the entire order, renounce his vows, repent, retrain, and fall right back down to the bottom in the space of less than three months. For him, it was probably commonplace to experience emotional yo-yoing, but Obi-Wan was not enjoying the experience. The mere notion that someone could make him feel so volatile with so many years of discipline under his belt was exhausting. Qui-Gon had once told him that he was a natural at suppressing his emotions. At the time, he’d taken it as a compliment…now, he wasn’t so sure if his former Master had meant it that way. 

The effects of frosjafeuel were devastating. 

Bacta could really only take things so far, and it was a miracle Anakin hadn’t needed any organ transplants. Thanks to Yoda’s unerring intuition, they’d caught most of it before it burned holes through his intestines, but he’d needed a blood transfusion and the entirety of his stomach lining was a veritable train wreck. Twice a day, he got an infusion of the strongest antibiotics to repair the damage to his digestive tract and he’d only recently stopped throwing up blood. Four days into it, a cyst that had developed in his esophagus burst and went unnoticed for several hours, resulting in a raging infection that brought his temperature up horrendously. The task of keeping his blood from boiling had fallen to Obi-Wan, who liberally applied cold compresses and freezesheets while thinking up every curse in Hutteese he’d managed to pick up. He’d seen Anakin bounce back from a number of grievous wounds, often incurred due to carelessness or recklessness, but this was the worst. Worse, he couldn’t contact his consciousness through the Force; though he couldn’t tell if it was because Anakin had simply shut down or because he had irreversible brain damage. When the subject of aphasia was first brought up, he’d thrown his communicator at the medical droid and stormed out of the room. 

Some might be inclined to say that infants are unaware of the events that go on around them, but Obi-Wan was prone to disagree. Leia was positively monstrous, screaming at all hours of the night until he’d come up with the idea of wrapping her in Anakin’s cloak. She’d sniffed it for a few minutes before whimpering pathetically and falling into an uneasy slumber. Luke was similarly discontent, but unlike his explosive sibling, he lay in his crib and stared at the ceiling, primping inconsolably until Obi-Wan, out of sheer pity and sadness, took him to his father’s room and rocked him next to the bed for a few hours. This was repeated every single night, until Obi-Wan wanted to shake Anakin out of his coma with the sheer force of his fury for being so selfish and inconsiderate. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what had possessed the young man to attempt to take his life after seeing all that it had to offer. He had children, a _family_ …something most Jedi could only dream of, and he refused to think that the mere thought of his possible upcoming trial was enough to drive him to suicide. Anakin would never do something so thoughtless out of mere self-preservation, it went against everything Obi-Wan knew about his personality.

It was a week and a half later, near midnight, when he was finally privileged with the reason that so much grief had come to pass. Their rooms in the palace were mostly identical, sporting a large bed, a sparse but elegant wardrobe and a ’fresher. Obi-Wan was sitting in a hover chair next to Anakin’s sleeping form with his head in his hands when a pained moan jerked him out of his semi-conscious state. Practically vaulting out of his seat, he leaned over the bed to see his former padawan staring at the ceiling, a confused look on his face. He was pale, though his color had vastly improved in the last few days, which had given them some reason to hope for his recovery. Some of the healers had managed to strip him of his hot and heavy robes, and he’d spent most of his time in a soft pair of sleeping trousers and nothing else. Slowly, blue eyes moved to focus on Obi-Wan, and when they did he visibly flinched, as if in pain. 

“You’re awake then” Obi-Wan commented, his tone frostier than he’d intended it to be. When no response was forthcoming, he continued. “You’re a monstrous berk.” 

To his alarm, Anakin’s eyes flickered from blue, to the somewhat-familiar Sith-orange, then back again. Long fingers curled in the sheets as he drew a deep breath. He then proceeded to turn positively green. His organic hand rose to cover his mouth and his stomach heaved as he tried to prevent the inevitable. The sheer force of his retching forced him to sit up and lean over the edge of the bed.

“Gonna be sick” he groaned. 

Hastening to rectify the situation before it got messy, Obi-Wan grabbed the first thing he could find-which happened to be a decorative helmet-and wrenched his former apprentice’s hair back as he proceeded to be violently ill into what he hoped wasn’t a priceless family heirloom. Anakin’s shoulders shook as he attempted to regain control of himself several times, only to proceed to expel a wealth of fluid once more. It was getting to the point where Obi-Wan was seriously contemplating calling a healer, when his symptoms began to slow and then finally stop. Setting the now thoroughly ruined helmet to the side, he helped the young man settle back into the pillows, where he proceeded to take several deep, gulping breaths, sweat beading across his forehead. Wordlessly, Obi-Wan went into the ‘fresher and filled a glass of water, which he then proceeded to help Anakin drink; propping his head up with one hand while monitoring sips with the other. Placing the glass on the nightstand beside the bed, he sat back and looked at his former apprentice with a feeling that was one part anger and the other pity.

“I don’t suppose you can muster up any sort of explanation” he commented.

He startled, but didn’t pull away as Anakin’s hand briefly touched his own before sliding back onto the covers.

“Can’t….get attached” he wheezed. “Luke…Leia….” he shuddered and threw a glance at him. “You…can’t. I’ll kill you…killed her….s’ what I do….better off…d-de-” he shuddered and Obi-Wan hastened to grab the helmet again, steadying him more gently this time as he was sick once more. Falling back into the pillows, his lashes fluttered as struggled to remain conscious. “…Don’t love me…can’t…p-please….”

“Oh Anakin” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking a lock of damp hair away from his forehead. “Your children won’t be better off if you’re gone…not this way. It’s human to love your children.” The presence of tears utterly shattered every ounce of resolve within him. The Bond that had for so long been kept silent was suddenly flooded with the younger man’s emotions, and his heart stuttered in its chest as he comprehended the degree of pain coming from his former trainee. Anakin’s lip trembled, a tear ran down his cheek and Obi-Wan was doomed. Lifting the covers, he gently slid into the bed next to his former padawan, and didn’t protest as a long arm draped across his waist, the other finding the center of his chest. Threading his fingers through damp locks, he tucked his chin over Anakin’s head and closed his eyes. “I love you.”

“S-sorry” was the muttered response. “U-uma ji m-muna…”

“Enough Anakin…enough.” 

If anyone of particular notice saw them as they were that night, nobody mentioned it. By morning, the helmet had been cleared away, and someone had brought a bowl of broth for Anakin; Obi-Wan woke to the smell to see it steaming on the bedside table. Anakin stirred, and his consciousness in the bond reached out to beckon him back into its restful state. For once, he didn’t resist him, preferring to sink into the nothingness that was contentment….and put his worries aside for another time.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ultimately, it wasn’t his fear of attachments that had driven Anakin to such extremes, it was his knowledge of what attachment to him had done to others. When considering his rampant, but ultimately concise form of logic, Obi-Wan grudgingly admitted he could see where this had drove him to utter desperation. Anakin often operated under the impression that you ‘couldn’t fix what was already broken.’ To him, attachment was a way to failure and death, and he’d seen it applied in the most horrific situations possible. Through repetitious bonding with their Soul Signatures and the constant therapeutic time they’d spent together, they’d both formed a sort of unconscious attraction that neither of them had recognized or detected. Obi-Wan’s fatal mistake of pointing out that Anakin had kissed him had thrown the reality of how far they had fallen without noticing to the forefront, and Anakin had panicked. Already, he was becoming attached to Luke and Leia, something he knew was expressly forbidden. There were living, breathing, sentient counterparts of his dead wife lying about, and he’d unwittingly allowed himself to fall into a state of security whose emotional base was centered in that of love and affection.  
His act of thoughtless affection towards Obi-Wan had been the tipping point, and he’d plummeted.

Anakin’s healing accelerated over the next few weeks, aided by his return to consciousness and his ability to meditate and use the Force to expedite the process. Unfortunately, his rash decision ruined their plans to intercept Darth Sidious on Coruscant. Bail returned three days after the young man had woken up, and he was still working on determining another date when they could strike. Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to berate Anakin for disrupting their intended plans, and it seemed Yoda was of the same mind. The Grand Master spent a great amount of time in his rooms, taking his place as mentor and healer, and Obi-Wan was glad for it. It left him in the position of caretaker and friend, and he often brought Luke and Leia to see him during the day. Both children, though incapable of expressing their relief in words, calmed considerably with their father’s return to the world. Leia’s tantrums slowly petered off until they were to their normal, everyday scale, and Luke was his usual quiet and content self. 

It became an unspoken tradition for Obi-Wan to crawl into Anakin’s bed near midnight and curl himself around his sleeping form in a gesture of comfort. Truthfully, they hadn’t gotten any closer to discussing their feelings, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay away and Anakin had given no indication of discomfort or protest. Instead, he would stretch languidly upon his entry into the sheets and slide his fingers into the confines of Obi-Wan’s tunic, his breath tickling the hollow at the crook of his neck as he fell back into a restful slumber without comment. Sometimes, he would leave in the early hours of morning…other times they slept well into the day, reluctant to leave what was fast becoming a method of relaxation and reassurance. There were times when Obi-Wan’s conscience would slip in to haunt him. The logical part of his mind whispered that Anakin was damaged and hurting, and that no good would come from catering to their need to be close to each other. Any more, and he’d be jeopardizing their goals for the future, unable to enter into combat without wondering if the other was hurting or wounded. 

_“Meecooda joggdu stafa do tah poda.”_

Obi-Wan jerked groggily into wakefulness as Anakin’s habitual sleep-muttering stirred him from slumber. Sun was spilling into the room through the high windows, and he squinted uncomfortably as he took inventory of the time. By his judging, it was a little past sunrise, well beyond the time when he tried to sneak out of the room and down to the garden for a brief meditation session before breakfast. Anakin was lying on his back, one arm above his head and the other seemingly trapped under Obi-Wan’s body, which was positioned facing him on his side. His head was pillowed on the younger man’s shoulder, and he shifted experimentally, wincing as his muscles protested against lying in such an unusual position for so long. Propping himself up on one elbow, Obi-Wan studied the sleeping individual before him. Anakin’s features were relaxed in sleep like they never were during his hours of consciousness. Bronze lashes dusted across firm cheekbones, fluttering softly in the nuances of unconsciousness. His mouth was slightly open, his lips colored with only the softest flush of cerise…subtle and natural. Tanned skin followed the slope of his neck to his clavicle, elegant but at the same time undeniably masculine. The sheets enveloping his body from the chest down left little to imagination, contouring to a not-overly muscular but powerful physique; supple and strong like the surge of the tide. He was undeniably attractive, anyone with eyes could see that. Obi-Wan couldn’t count how many times he’d seen him shake off the advances of various individuals, human and alien alike during their adventures. Swallowing-trying to shake the sudden and confusing ache that had suffused his skin-Obi-Wan reluctantly returned his gaze to the face he knew so well. Eyes as blue as the seas around Otoh Gunga stared back, hazy in their ascent from sleep but knowing all the same. 

He would never know who initiated the kiss. 

Long afterwards, such information continued to escape him. All Obi-Wan knew was that Anakin’s lips were soft, smooth and somewhat yielding against his. Leaning slightly over his former padawan, he shivered at the myriad of emotions that hummed through the Bond. There was a soft affection, errant and endless like the depths of space…stretching on in veins of thrumming color. It was accompanied by a desire that was strong but not overwhelming, tempered to fit their needs and accepting of limitations. Stronger and surer than any other feeling were the sensations of affection and love, enough of it to leave him reeling in its wake. Anakin’s taste was soft in its signature; warm and intrinsic and uniquely his own. Their noses brushed idly, bumping against each other as the silence around them seemed to unfold like a starbloom blossoming, effervescent and expressive. As Obi-Wan’s fingers lifted to card through the wealth of his hair, a hand rose to cup his cheek; thumb stroking down the contour of his jaw in a tender and familiar gesture. The kiss in of itself was innocent; with the brief exchange of lips and the occasional desirous hitch of breath. A slow, throbbing sensation began to pervade his limbs; something not unlike pins and needles gathering in an area he didn’t normally consider. 

When Anakin’s tongue gently traced the seam of his lips, requesting entry, the warmth exploded into an all-encompassing heat that had him pulling lightly on the strands of hair wrapped about his fingers. A heady groan was the response to his actions and he gasped at the sound, feeling the reverberations of it in his now-open mouth as the kiss deepened and became more intimate. Anakin’s fingers scratched gently against his beard, as he angled their mouths, twisting his head slightly as their actions became less tentative and more primal; teetering on the edge of careful control and utter abandon. Warmth and moisture…the slide of their tongues against each other…the rise and fall of their breath intermingling and the occasional, uncontrollable shudder of pleasure that rose between them; traveling from one to the other like the snap of an electric current. Anakin’s mouth caught his bottom lip, sucking languorously ‘till he couldn’t help the small, wanton expression of lust that left him in the form of a moan. Encouraged, the younger man nipped lightly at his tongue and sparks burgeoned across every point of contact; sizzling in out of existence like so many embers in the light of a roaring fire. 

A part of Obi-Wan whispered that he was inexperienced, that he knew nothing of the pleasures of the flesh. Anakin’s actions were skillful and cutting, while his were slightly clumsy and more uncertain. In a different situation, he might have felt embarrassed by his ignorance, but it seemed that Anakin embraced his inexperience; taking his tentativeness and loving him all the more thoroughly due to it. Whispers through their shared Bond spoke of his _joy_ that Obi-Wan would choose him to share such a profoundly new encounter singularly with him, his affection so overwhelming it was utterly impossible to dismiss. And as those skillful lips left his to tilt his head up and gently lave the flesh under his neck, he shivered at the reverent adulation in Anakin’s touch; at his acknowledgement of his precarious amateurism. 

After a time, and seemingly out of mutual agreement, they drew apart and Anakin rolled onto his side and made a study of Obi-Wan’s face. Still shivering, the Jedi Master let his head loll against the pillows, lifting a hand to trace his lips, feeling the remnants of the thrumming pressure of another mouth and tongue against them…permeating them. A thousand things he could say came to mind. _What are we doing? Why are we doing this? We shouldn’t do this_ were but a few of them. Instead, his mind trailed to the blatantly obvious, and when he opened his mouth speak, it was what came out.

“That was my first kiss.” 

Anakin raised an eyebrow, his truly sardonic half-smirk forming on lips Obi-Wan was sure he’d never look at the same way again.

“You’re a natural then.” 

Obi-Wan huffed exasperatedly, which evidently was an urgent cue for Anakin to kiss him again, and it was only fifteen minutes later that he got another chance to speak. 

“What are we doing, Anakin?”

The aforementioned individual laced their hands together, kissing Obi-Wan’s knuckles in a way that left him utterly and disgustingly soppy. 

“Loving each other” was the eventual response. 

“How did this happen?”

This seemed to grasp his attention more than the last comment, and his younger companion managed to look irritable rather than fuzzily distracted. 

“I want you” he said bluntly. “I want to be with you.’

“I…need time Anakin” Obi-Wan murmured.

“…You don’t want me?”

This gave him pause, and he lifted a hand to cup Anakin’s cheek, blue eyes fluttered slightly at the caress and he smiled gently. 

“Of course I do, I’m just…new to all this. You have to be patient with me.” He let his hand drop and sighed as an arm snaked around his waist to pull them closer together. “We’re doing this at the absolute worst time, you realize. There’s a Sith that needs to be destroyed, an Empire to be toppled, and we’re lying in bed making out like a bunch of teenagers.” 

“I’ve never been one for timing” was the calm retort.

“Yes, I know” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I just…broke my Vows after thirty eight years of trying to keep them. I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that I don’t regret it at all.” Anakin chuckled and he rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this, how will we go into a battle with the Sith without worrying about whether the other is going to be killed?”

Anakin was silent for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of Obi-Wan’s beard.

“I love you” he said quietly. “But…I know you can take care of yourself. Padme was so…delicate, you’re not. You’re one of the strongest people I know. I’m not afraid for you.”

“That could change” the older man murmured.

“It could” his former padawan agreed. “But for now, it does not, and I’ll let you know if I start to feel possessive.”

“Oh, I can assure you I’m thoroughly yours” Obi-Wan said dryly. “But my services still belong to the Republic…I’m still a Jedi.” 

At this, Anakin lost all pretense of control and kissed him ‘till he was fairly reeling.

“Master” he murmured against his lips. “I wouldn’t love you if you were anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random Clarifications**  
>  Uma ji muna-I love you  
> Meecooda joggdu stafa do tah poda-I could run faster than your pod
> 
> **A/N:** So, I actually have been corrected on the definition of angst. Origionally, I thought angst was an excess of argument between chars (i.e. multiple people fighting over a single love interest, cheating, arguing etc) angst relates to internal emotional struggle, which Anakin has a LOT of. So I have added angst to the list of tags related to this fic. I hope the kiss didn't come too soon for you all, but I felt like it was time. Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	12. About Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...In which Obi-Wan gets drunk and Anakin is totally down with that._  
>  (i.e. the author got distracted and wrote a pwp chapter. 

“Do you think you’ll ever create a holocron of your life?”

Obi-Wan blinked sleepily, the lull of the gardens around them having almost soothed him into a restful slumber. Luke was snoozing happily in a basket next to him; wrapped in a light green blanket to ward off any possible chill. Leia was awake but preoccupied with a rattling bauble Anakin was shaking above her head; his hand moving idly as he gazed at Obi-Wan waiting for his response. They were sitting next to each other in a central focal of the gardens; surrounded on four sides by hedges that had grown up around spiral-shaped lattice; deep green in color and sporting long vines that tipped to the left and downward like waterfalls of brilliant chartreuse. The circular couch on which they sat was pale ivory fabric stretched across dark mahogany; with an entrance at the side where various guests could slip in and sit down. An overhead fountain snaked through spherical tubing in fantastic shapes; it swirled and spiraled and turned a myriad of different colors when shot through with sunlight. A maintenance droid was beeping softly in the corner, pulling the occasional offensive weed out of the immaculate landscaping. Every once in a while, the hum of a passing land speeder or the soft hush of footsteps filled the air as palace officials went about their daily business. The lake couldn’t be seen from where they were sitting, but the lap of water against shore was a distinct and soothing melody that added to the overall peaceful atmosphere that hung like a blanket over the city.

The healers had allowed Anakin out of his bed two days after what Obi-Wan had come to call ‘the kiss.’ He was kept on a strict diet of easy-to-digest foods that were high in nutrients. This-of course-was no issue, as Anakin was ridiculously fond of fruits and vegetables, having come from a planet where freshly grown foods were scarce. He had immediately used it as an excuse to experiment with different types of smoothies with produce from practically every planet imaginable that was edible for humans. The addition of vitamin and protein powder kept him well above the nutritional requirements assigned to him, and most of the medical personnel were forced to admit he was doing fairly well on his own. It wasn’t until the fifth day that Obi-Wan caved and permitted a brief sparring session during which he was thoroughly beaten and then thoroughly ravished. If there was anything positive that came out of Anakin’s indomitable will, it was his ability to bounce back from the worst of situations with the power and speed of a boomerang with a hyperdrive. That wasn’t to say that he was fully recuperated; he still had numerous counseling sessions with Yoda, which now seemed to irk him more than they did placate him. More often then not, he came back from his sessions with the Jedi Grand Master in a terrible mood with a Force Signature that was brilliant enough to knock Obi-Wan flat should he attempt to do so. As much as the young man disliked the tedium of deep conversation and personal exploration, it was helping him.

Bail commed them about once a week, sometimes every three days if things were relatively calm. His seat on the Senate was ever more precarious, and Palpatine had begun to demand things of those who claimed to be loyal to him in order to ensure their utter servitude. Organa estimated it was only a matter of time before the Sith asked something of him that he just simply could not do; either for the sake of his sanity or the sake of other innocent people. As much as the Dark Side claimed to be all-powerful, its main driving force was a constant, permeating fear. Palpatine trusted no one, and in order to ensure that he was only surrounded by the most loyal of servants, he put their vows of subservience to the test often and brutally. Those who weren’t as corrupt as he often acceded for the simple reason that death was the only other viable option. If you couldn’t serve, you could certainly die. It bothered Obi-Wan to send a friend into a situation that was less-than optimal, but they had their hands tied when it came to other viable points of approach, and Organa was their only source of truly reliable information. 

“I don’t think I’ve really got much to offer in the ways of holocrons” Obi-Wan commented. “I’m rather your picture of an exemplary, boring Jedi. I haven’t discovered anything extraordinary regarding the Force, and I use one of the most basic lightsaber techniques there is to learn.” 

“You rehabilitated a Sith” Anakin pointed out, bouncing Leia. “That’s got to count for something.” 

“Fallen Jedi have reconverted to the Light before you” the Jedi Master replied, tucking his arms into his sleeves. “Besides, I’m rather critical of throwing the term ‘Sith’ around, especially when it comes to you.” 

“Why’s that?” was the murmured reply. 

“To call someone a ‘Sith’ without understanding their motives goes against my better judgment” he countered. “You Fell, but you Fell because you wanted to protect and save…and I don’t think that made you a Sith. Your fear made you a Sith, the people you killed made you a Sith, but to truly _be_ a Sith Lord, you would have had to kill Darth Sidious. In coincidence with The Rule of Two; their can only be two Sith, a Master and an Apprentice…and while a padawan knows the Jedi ways, they are not a Jedi Knight…so likewise I must assume that while a Sith Apprentice knows the Sith ways, they are not a Sith Lord. Palpatine called you ‘Lord Vadar’ to appease your need to feel superior, but you were not his equal…and would never be his equal in his eyes. Sith Lords do not have equals.” He fell silent, feeling somewhat overwhelmed at having to talk so much. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you were ever a Sith…maybe partially, but never fully. If you had truly been a Sith when we fought on Mustafar, the battle wouldn’t have ended until one of us was dead.” 

“Maybe your anger just scared the Sith straight out of me” Anakin suggested, grinning lopsidedly. 

“If only it were that easy” Obi-Wan replied, his answering smile betraying the sarcastic tone of his voice. A long-fingered hand grasped his chin in a gentle but firm grip, and he followed its patient but insistent pull ‘till he was face to face with Anakin, who had propped Leia up onto his shoulder. The younger man smirked and lowered his lips onto Obi-Wan‘s, who responded in kind and let it go on for a few seconds before turning away, his face lightly flushed. “It’s too public here” he murmured. “Honestly Anakin, you’d think you were wanting to be caught.” 

“You didn’t have to kiss me back” was the snarky response, and Obi-Wan did not deign the comment a reply.

From an outsider’s point of view, it would likely seem like they were taking things agonizingly slow. Despite the fact that they now spent the entire night in the same bed, nothing had particularly changed when it came to their physical relationship. It wasn’t that Anakin wasn’t experienced, realistically it was quite the opposite; it was the fact that he recognized Obi-Wan’s need to adjust. Even the simplest of kisses sent his senses into a veritable tornado of unbecoming feelings, he was loathe to think how embarrassing he would be once they actually managed to take their clothes off. Fortunately, his former padawan seemed to delight in the fact that he could practically make his stoic and studious Master practically come undone with the simplest of gestures. 

_“Make that sound again…”_

Obi-Wan shivered and cast a surreptitious glance at Anakin, who was placing a now-sleeping Leia in her respective basket. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that less than a decade previous he’d been a petulant little boy with a penchant for relentless mischief. Occasionally, when nostalgia hit him hard enough, he was achingly reminded of the dusty slave-boy perched on the counter of a junk shop fiddling with whatever gadget he could get his hands on. Now, Anakin was a father and a masterful Jedi with scars and regrets of his own. His padawan braid was gone, replaced by the stern countenance of a man who had seen many hardships and countless tragedies. His fingers were battle-worn and the scar over his right eye was a testimony to his battle with Asajj Ventress. When he was feeling bold, Obi-Wan liked to run his mouth over it, tracing fine lines between wholeness and imperfection ‘till the younger man shuddered and grew languid beneath his touch. 

“You’re staring.” Dragging his gaze away from the tantalizing slope of Anakin’s neck, Obi-Wan was met with a pair of azure eyes gazing at him sardonically. He flushed and ducked his head, only to jump as warm hands threaded through his own. Anakin’s lips nudged the shell of his ear and his breath hitched. “You’re _wanting..”_

“Anakin’ he murmured. 

A soft chuckle was his only response, and he shuddered as Anakin’s mechanical hand squeezed his thigh in a gesture that was not entirely innocent. The mouth that had been gently whispering into his ear left it to suck at his neck and he swallowed reflexively, the hand that wasn’t occupied coming up to cup the back of Anakin’s head. If he was patient in anything, it was the act of pleasure. It had come as somewhat of a surprise, but Anakin could be incredibly articulate when it came to romance. He’d always thought that someone as fiery as his former padawan would be fierce and impatient, but it was quite the opposite. Teasing was his forte, and he was terribly, unfairly good at it. Reflecting upon the fact, Obi-Wan supposed he would have to be to win over someone as notoriously stubborn as Padme, but he pushed the supposition from his mind in order to concentrate on the present. A present in which he was practically melting into a brainless mess of nothingness; both his hands gripping Anakin’s tunic as his mouth was plundered mercilessly. The assault on his lips relented somewhat, and Obi-Wan pressed forward, eager to take control somewhat; all thoughts of being discovered having flown from his head minutes previous. Letting his tongue snake between lips flushed rubicund by kissing, he was rewarded by a thoroughly debauched groan, Anakin’s organic hand threading deliciously through his hair. The hand on his thigh inched upwards and his hips moved unconsciously, rotating in an incognizant and instinctual invitation to continue. Obi-Wan was all-too aware of the movements of their Force Signatures. When together like this, they fused until they were no longer recognizable from the other, a constant, brilliant thrum of pulsating energy that was seemingly endless. He could _feel_ Anakin just as thoroughly as he could feel him, and their conjoined desirousness was hot, heady, and so, so _pure_. Anakin nipped at his bottom lip and the breathy noise that escaped him was no more controllable than the spinning, wanton sensation in his groin that was fast leaving him desperate and wanting so much more. Not missing his reaction, Anakin chuckled and kissed him fiercely, their slow and sweet exchange becoming a passionate battle of tongues and teeth. 

It wasn’t until Luke gave a highly uncharacteristic giggle from his basket that they broke apart, flushed and breathing heavily to greet the sight of Bail Organa standing at the entrance to the enclosed space with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. Obi-Wan swore-which made Luke giggle more for some reason-and wished frantically to-just this one time-disappear into thin air. He settled with looking resolutely anywhere but their friend whilst schooling his expression into that of utter blankness. This was-of course-ruined by his utterly debauched appearance but there were times when one just had to pretend that everything was utterly as it should be in order to save face. Anakin fared rather better, though Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if this was because it was nearly impossible to embarrass him or if he was simply a natural at acting cool and collected in situations that were morally compromising. He bent and picked up Luke, who cooed softly before bopping him on the nose. 

“Thank the stars you’ve both pulled your heads out of your lightsabers” Bail said dryly, sitting down across from them without aplomb. Anakin’s expression morphed into one of incredulous shock and Obi-Wan coughed violently to hide his initial reaction of derisive resignation. The Senator beckoned to Anakin, who handed Luke over automatically, still looking thunderstruck. When neither of them were forthcoming in the ways of speech, Organa raised an eyebrow. “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone. If I was, I would have said something to Yoda a long time ago.”

“You knew?” Anakin demanded.

“I saw you kiss Obi-Wan in the nursery” was the wry response. “And you’re barely more than five feet away from each other on a daily basis…it’s not hard to put the pieces together.” He bounced Luke, who chortled gleefully. “I’m not privy to the…constraints Jedi put on themselves. If you’re happy together, more power to you.” 

With this, Anakin visibly relaxed, but Obi-Wan still found himself wishing the earth would just swallow him whole. As the two launched into a discussion regarding politics, he took the time to compose himself, brushing fingers through his hair as surreptitiously as possible. Bail ignored him, but Anakin kept shooting him smug looks that would have had him muttering obscenities if they weren’t in polite company. It wasn’t until Leia woke up and demanded his attention that he started to feel somewhat back to normal. It wasn’t that he felt embarrassed by his relationship with Anakin, quite the opposite really. It was the inevitable fact that if they were found out the consequences would be dire. And-in all honesty-there was a small, selfish part of Obi-Wan that wanted to keep their softly blooming romance to himself. Settling Leia into his lap, he tried to ward off an unnecessary feeling of possessiveness. When Anakin’s arm settled around his shoulders he startled slightly but allowed it, the added weight on his frame was surprisingly comforting. 

Eventually, Luke started to smell absolutely horrendous, which was their cue to take their leave of Bail and make their way back into the palace. Anakin took both twins and Obi-Wan went in search for something to eat. After securing a few slices of melon from the kitchen, he ran into Master Yoda, who was on his way to meditate. Obi-Wan briefed him on their discussion with Bail, and they spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries before going their separate ways. After wandering for a while, he made his way back to his rooms and switched on the radio, flipping through the channels before settling on a station that was at least somewhat reliable. An hour later, Anakin’s Signatures in the Force Bond were still deeply paternal, and he opted not to disturb the young man. Out of curiosity, Obi-Wan pressed a call button next to the bed that would summon one of the service droids that tended to castle inhabitants. The droid in question arrived less than two minutes later and cheerfully offered him a small list of select pleasantries, including but not limited to drawing up a hot bath, aromatherapy, assorted reading material, and a short list of various spirits. Deciding that it couldn’t hurt to have a drink and a good read, Obi-Wan selected a holobook detailing the industrialization of Coruscant, and asked the droid to surprise him with whatever drink it thought might suit his fancy. Once it had done his bidding, the droid in question disappeared, but not before reassuring him that if he should need anything else all he needed to do was press the call button again. 

Obi-Wan was well into the second chapter before he realized that he probably shouldn’t have left the beverage choice up to a mechanical servant and then neglected to read the label. He was fairly sure that words weren’t supposed to overlap on top of each other on a single page, and every time he tried to move on to a different line of literature he ended up reading the same sentence over again. His tongue felt thick and his head slightly heavy, though he did his best to remain awake. Thinking back, he tried to recall how many servings he’d drunk, but his memory petered out somewhere around the bottom of the second glass. Something in him thanked the stars that he’d at least had the sense to pull such an idiotic stunt in a private place, rather than out at some nameless hole-in-the-wall where someone could drag him into an alley and rob him blind. There was also the factor that he absolutely did _not_ want Anakin to find him in this sort of state. His former padawan had only seen him thoroughly knackered twice; once shortly after Qui-Gon had died, and the next after their battle with Dooku in order to ward off the pain of having a section of wall the size of a small spacecraft topple onto him. The young man had used both situations _entirely_ to his advantage, and it was this simple fact that was solely keeping him somewhat upright. He blinked and tried to focus on the holo-book again but failed miserably; it wouldn’t have mattered if the book was in Riorian, it was all the same jumble of gibberish. Acknowledging that he was more than a little drunk took somewhat more thinking and quite a bit of denial, but he eventually set his holobook down in order to glare at his glass in a way that he was positively _certain_ would get it to divulge the extent of his overindulgence. 

This was how Anakin found him a few moments later; looking thunderously at a snifter that he was sure had done him some grievous wrong. The young man took a moment to observe the situation before settling down on the bed and picking up his forgotten holobook.

“Industrial Coruscant and Today’s Society” he quoted off the title. “You certainly know how to get an _exciting_ read in, don’t you?” 

“Oh, shut up” Obi-Wan muttered, squinting furiously. “You’re not helping.” 

This brought Anakin up short, and he glanced between Obi-Wan and the increasingly offending glass before his eyes traveled to the bottle of spirits the droid had brought him. An awful, devious, devastating smile spread across his face as he put the pieces together. 

“You’re _wasted”_ he said delightedly. 

“No, no I’m not” the older man replied. “I’m just…” he trailed off then tried again. “This-!” he exclaimed, gesturing at the glass. “ _This_ glass! It-”

“How much have you drunk?” was the amused query. 

“Not a lot” he muttered. “Two-three, maybe.” 

“Do you know what you’re drinking?” Anakin said curiously, picking up the offending bottle and turning it. 

Sighing resignedly, Obi-Wan tossed back the rest of his drink with an air of defeat.

“No” he admitted. 

“Chandrilan brandy” Anakin muttered, then whistled. “Wow, you sure go for the gold don’t you?”  


“If you’re going to lecture me, I’m going to need more of that” he snapped, gesturing to the bottle.

“You’ve _definitely_ had enough” his former padawan said mildly, snatching the snifter from his hand despite his protests. “This stuff is strong, I’m surprised you’re still sitting up.” 

“Like you haven’t drunk yourself to ruins at some point or another” Obi-Wan commented, lying back now that the jig was up. “Wasn’t it you who drank six glasses of rodian spice liquor then tried to convince the Council you were able to fly your speeder?”

“Mhmm” Anakin replied, settling next to him. “And it was you who scolded me on the _‘consequences of overindulgence and ‘so help me Anakin if you ever embarrass me like that again I’m going to make you meditate until you’ve purged yourself of every ounce of recklessness you possess!’”_

“Idiot” Obi-Wan muttered, drawing a laugh out of the younger man. 

He was only mildly offended when Anakin moved over him, propping himself up on his elbows as the rest of his weight settled fully on top of him. Exhaling softly, he opened his hands automatically to accept the intrusion of Anakin’s fingers; twining them together ‘till he was stuck tight. His mechanical hand was wrapped in a black leather glove that gave the illusion of virility, sheathed metal in slightly rough fabric that scuffed lightly on his open palms. 

“Now that I have you here” the dark-haired man muttered, nosing along Obi-Wan’s jaw. “What should I do with you?”

Kissing-of course-was the only option he was willing to accept. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or his own increasing boldness, but Obi-Wan found himself much more open and receptive than he’d been during their past private sessions. He opened his mouth to the invasion of Anakin’s tongue without hesitation, and when the younger man’s hands dipped into his robes to grasp his hips; he acquiesced eagerly, groaning as they were brought flush against each other in a tight, rutting heat that left him in an inebriated haze of hunger and desirousness. Lips were suckling the pulse-point on his neck, jerking heavy, rolling throbs of heat from the very core of his being ’till he was fair gasping with it. His hands tangled in a mess of golden hair as Anakin’s mouth descended to press flat against his collarbone, laving the skin there with a skill that was dexterous and precise before moving downwards. 

Cloaks were tossed away, shoes toed off onto the floor, fingers unbuckled belts and tossed away obis; tugging at tabards ‘till they slithered to the sheets in a tangled dance. The tunics and under tunics took a little more work but soon he was faced with a wealth of golden, flushed skin and Obi-Wan let his hands run over it reverently, sketching scars and nicks with fingertips and tongue while Anakin shuddered over him, his breath coming short through his nose. 

He did not hesitate when his mouth finally closed over the peak of a dusky nipple, running his tongue over the flat of it he reveled in the lustful hitch of breath that came from above him. Closing the whole of his mouth over the nub he sucked gently and Anakin visibly fell apart, an utterly salacious moan falling from his lips as his head swung forward, his hips working of their own accord. Lean, dextrous hands dragged themselves down his sides and Obi-Wan threw his head back and moaned as they built up a searing rhythm. A strange, all-too-hot feeling was suffusing him; the sensation of reeling in blissful nothingness increasingly tenfold as their combined arousals brushed through the thin fabric of their slacks. Hands slipped underneath his legs to bring his knees up around the viril body on top of him and he arched unconsciously, bucking up into that delicious heat ‘till the ceiling was alight with streaks of dazzling white. Force Signatures fused, combined, interlocked in a haze of miasmic color and he was distantly aware of Anakin’s mouth on his neck; open and panting as they surged together. Ruin. Ruin was fast approaching and he was utterly helpless to stop it; the helpless, pleading sounds coming from the back of his throat unruly and utterly humiliating. 

“A-Anakin” he gasped. “Anakin, I can’t-”

Eyes-blue eyes that had always held far too much power over him-locked him in a prurient haze that was both distant-consumed-and yet grounded…far more grounded than he was. Warm lips closed over his own and he shuddered with the almost unbearable pliancy of the exchange…too sweet…too personal.

“Cum” was the hoarse, yet utterly seductive response. “It’s alright…you can cum.”

The cry that left his mouth was involuntary; ripped from the dregs of his soul as his vision was washed with white. Distantly, he was aware of the wash of embarrassing warmth suffusing his nether religions , but that was something to consider later. Now, _now_ , there was only the steady pulsation of infinite release, pleasure reaching up to stroke over his tongue ‘till it felt thick and saccharine. He was half-aware of Anakin’s orgasm, his eyelids fluttering as the young man said something utterly horrendous in Hutteese; hips convulsing mindlessly as he spent himself; but he couldn’t find his voice to reprimand him. Instead, he lay boneless and spent beneath him, an errant hand coming up to stroke through fine strands of flaxen hair as the other man reached his completion and collapsed; his weight deliciously comforting. For a while, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing, the rasp of fingers against sheets against skin. Obi-Wan absentmindedly observed that even meditation hadn’t brought him close to this kind of languor; there was a floating, endless somnolence that robbed him of his ability to worry about anything. 

Eventually, Anakin rose up on his elbows and they kissed long, deep, and slow. Sleep had begun to gather at the corner of his eyelids, and combined with the effects of the alcohol, Obi-Wan was unsure if he’d be able to remain conscious for much longer.  


“I’d say you were taking advantage of me” he mumbled. “But I really don’t have the energy.” A soft chuckle fluttered into the air, tickling against his senses and sparking an all-encompassing feeling of tenderness. Rolling them over onto their sides, Obi-Wan leaned forward to kiss Anakin again, shivering as just the slightest reawakening of arousal rolled down his spine. Lips smirked against his and he sighed, pulling away. “Utter devil” he murmured absentmindedly. 

“Go to sleep old man.”

“Honestly…”

“You love me so much you can’t stand it” was the somewhat recalcitrant response. “You’re lucky I feel the same.”

Obi-Wan snorted.

“Oh yes, I’m _so_ lucky to have a stubborn, spoiled brat as my bed partner.” He closed his eyes, responding only minimally when Anakin pulled him close. “If I’m lucky, then you are utterly, indescribably blessed.”

He had nearly descended into sleep when the young man’s soft response drifted across his synapses.

“…Yes, I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Uh, well THAT didn't go as planned. Sorry for the long delay between chapters but my schedule has changed somewhat so I took some time to adjust before diving back into writing. Yeah, so, this chapter happened today...and I hope you don't mind that MAYBE I got a little carried away with...well...you know what I mean.


	13. Coruscant

The hum of the passenger freighter was at once both nerve-wracking and lulling. Every second, they got closer to their intended destination; drawing further and further away from the sparkling Alderaanian solace they’d partaken in for over a month. The trip wouldn’t be long, Coruscant and Alderaan were hardly far from each other, and the limited time Obi-Wan had to gather his thoughts was somewhat unsettling. No matter how many times he was in space, flying was always a somewhat disturbing experience…especially if it was _Anakin_ flying but thankfully this time that wasn’t the case. The man in question was perusing his datapadd with a fairly vacant expression, indicating that his thoughts were elsewhere than the screen glowing in front of them. Obi-Wan couldn’t really blame him. They were traveling to infiltrate and take down the mechanisms of the man who had caused his fall; a man he had once counted a friend and advisor, at his own and others’ peril. Of all people who had to balance their desires for revenge and justice, Anakin had to be among the most imperiled. 

Word had come from Organa a week previous that Palpatine was returning to Coruscant to oversee an important conference of the Senate. The details of the conference escaped Obi-Wan for the moment, but their main focus was to get to Darth Sidious within the week that he would be in the city. Infiltrating the Senate Executive Building alone would be a monstrous task, as it was heavily guarded-probably more so now that Palpatine had declared his absolute power-and would require their utmost skills in deception and disguise. Once there, they would have to pass undetected to the Chancellor’s Office, which Obi-Wan knew for certain was monitored by members of the Red Guard. Previously, they had simply been known as the ‘Senate Guard’; but after Darth Sidious had taken control of the Republic, he had renamed them. This was to say that they got past the Senate Commandos that roamed the halls at all hours of night and day; watchful of any kind of suspicious activity that might threaten the prominent political figures of Coruscant. 

It didn’t help that Anakin’s Force Signature was a veritable homing beacon for any Force-Sensitive individual. If he failed to shield, even for a second, Sidious would know they were there. Obi-Wan had worked tirelessly with the young man to strengthen his mental defenses, their progress was good, but it wasn’t great. Shifting in his seat, Obi-Wan frowned out at the stars winking past them. Normally, both he and Master Yoda would have wanted to spend more time working as a group to formulate a masterful plan that had no chance of failure, but Sidious wasn’t giving them that option. Planets were either bowing to the superiority of the Empire or being destroyed and the longer they waited, the harder it would be to pick up the pieces. Even now, they knew that restoring the Republic would be a messy, potentially disastrous task. The Clone Wars didn’t even come close to the mess they would face once Sidious was dead. If they were lucky, a Chancellor would be appointed who was willing to listen to reason. Unfortunately, too much of the Senate was controlled by Sidious’ followers, making it nearly impossible for such a thing to happen. The People were under the impression that all the Jedi were traitors, and the majority of the Senate was of a like mind. No, no matter how much he might wish things could go back to the way they were before Palpatine took over, Obi-Wan knew it would never be so easy. There was a real possibility the Jedi would never be allowed to hold a place of status in the political arena ever again.

A sharp chirp by his ear made him jump, and Obi-Wan turned to greet the service droid who had come by with a tray of refreshments.

“Ah, just water would be fine” he commented, nodding gratefully as he was offered a stoppered bottle. “Thank you.” 

Taking a tentative sip, he observed idly as Anakin shut off his datapadd with a sigh and leaned back to close his eyes. 

“Tell me when we get there” he mumbled. 

Obi-Wan checked the chronometer above their heads.

“About an hour yet.” 

The hum of the ship returned to the forefront, accompanied by his former padawan’s snores. Yoda, who had been meditating since the beginning of the trip, opened his eyes and Obi-Wan nodded in his direction. It was against his better judgment to allow such a revered member of the Order into a situation that was so fraught with peril, but Yoda was more familiar with Palpatine’s battle tactics, especially when it came to one-on-one. Anakin had witnessed his battle with Windu, but he had never actually engaged in combat with the Sith. All of them were aware that he was incredibly skilled when it came to Force-Levitation and Force-Lightning; of which Yoda was only adept at absorbing one and had admitted that he did not have as much skill with the other. Siths were taught far more rigorously when it came to manipulation of the physical world. Jedi were formidable and fearsome due to their lightsabers alone; exercising the Force to levitate and rearrange objects around them was often looked upon as taking gross advantage of their abilities. Anakin tended to use the Force for petty things like stacking laundry and grabbing snacks without getting off the couch, but Obi-Wan did not know the full scope of his abilities. It was something that they might have explored, had they had more time, but haste gave them no opportunity to try new tactics. 

“Still recovering, he is” Yoda commented, gesturing to Anakin. “Sleep he needs.” Unsure of how to respond to such a mundane comment, Obi-Wan nodded absentmindedly. “Too close you are, Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi Master stiffened at this, but immediately tapped into the Force in order to allow himself to relax. Schooling his expression into the realm of neutrality, he looked blankly across at the Jedi Grand Master.

“I’m not sure what you mean” he said mildly. 

“Old I may be, but stupid I am not” Yoda said gravely. “See your Force Signatures fusing, I do. Physically involved you are, _vulnerable_ you are.”

Every instinct in Obi-Wan screamed at him to deny the accusations put against him, but at the same time he knew it was impossible to fool Yoda. Even now, he could feel the warmth of Anakin’s Force Signature brushing up against his consciousness‘. In sleep, his psyche automatically sought him out for comfort and intimacy. In different circumstances, he would have found it endearing and reassuring, but with Yoda following their veins of communication via the Force, they might as well have been caught locking lips in the Council Chambers. He cursed himself for not noticing the issue when they were in private; he could have shielded himself and Anakin with no trouble at all. Now, it was too late. It would be a lie to say that Obi-Wan hadn’t struggled with the concept of their relationship, he’d spent the last thirty eight years telling himself he could never love or be loved in return. Discipline had always been his greatest and most loyal ally; reminding him of his place in the world whenever he got out of line. Qui-Gon had always been the somewhat unorthodox Jedi, and he his stoic and obedient apprentice. After his death, Anakin had stepped up to take his place as the ‘unruly nonconformist’, and he’d been happy to keep his role and continue to be as stuffy and boring as ever. Obi-Wan liked simplicity and order, and as he aged he’d come to realize it wasn’t so much out of obligation as it was a part of him. Recklessness didn’t come easily to him, nor did fickleness or anger. He didn’t love Anakin because it was Forbidden, he loved Anakin because he resonated deeply with his soul. Where his former padawan was the storm, he was the calm. Together, they created a temperate balance between a blank nothingness and roiling chaos. 

_“Kissing you is like coming home…”_

Obi-Wan smiled wanly at Yoda, who was still waiting for his response. 

“I…I won’t deny it” he said quietly. 

The old Jedi Master took a long time in replying. Obi-Wan could feel his disappointment and disapproval, it burned like a brand inside of his soul. A snort to his left indicated that Anakin had woken up, possibly sensing his discomfort and distress. Without speaking, the young man gauged the situation carefully, his gaze flitting between Obi-Wan and Yoda. A tendril of consciousness filtered through their Bond; the slightest brush of reassurance and Obi-Wan sighed. 

“Knew it was a mistake I did, when you did not sever your padawan bond after Young Skywalker became a Jedi Knight” Yoda said quietly. 

The two younger men glanced at each other uncertainly. In truth, it was something they had never discussed. Normally, newly initiated Jedi Knights had their bonds severed by a Healer soon after they ascended to such status, but Anakin kept putting it off. The Clone Wars were beginning with a ferocity that gave them no time for reprieve, and though Obi-Wan had mentioned severing the bond to him several times, he’d simply let it be after a while, acknowledging that they had neither time nor opportunity to worry about something that wasn’t really hurting anyone. Due to the fact that the Council paired them up on missions, the Bond helped them synchronize their tactics while minimizing the time they needed to speak. Rex and Cody often bewailed the fact that their Generals often appeared to communicate telepathically, leading coordinated attacks in dual symbiosis while leaving the rest of the troops in the dark. Obi-Wan could remember Ashoka complaining that her padawan bond with Anakin was compromised by the presence of the additional bond, but Anakin had always ignored her discontent. Over time, especially when Anakin was under Palpatine’s sway; the Bond grew vacant and unused, but it was still undoubtedly there. 

“I don’t think it’s the Bond that…caused this” Anakin said calmly, his voice slightly scratchy from sleep. “I…just…we temper each other. He keeps me calm, and I keep him from being comatose.” 

“Mmm, Balance” Yoda said sagely. “To strive for Balance, a good Jedi does. But to look for Balance in another, harmful may be.” 

_“Comatose”_ Obi-Wan muttered distractedly. 

A flicker of tender amusement brushed against his psyche and he rolled his eyes. 

“Approve of this, I do not” Yoda commented, blinking slowly. “However, too few of us there are to seek to remedy such things now. A mission we have, trust you I do to do what is right for the People.” 

“We will, Master” Anakin said earnestly. 

“Sense your fear, I do not” the old Master continued. “Reassure me this does. In time, we will see what the future holds.”

Their conversation was limited for the rest of the journey. Anakin wandered away to find something to eat in the public cantina and Yoda descended back into his meditative state. Obi-Wan busied himself with building up his shields for when they reached Coruscant and encouraged Anakin to do the same when he returned with an armful of what appeared to be blue and purple grapes and a bottle of water. The young man grimaced but did as he was told and then got around to packing up whatever items they might have left scattered about during the trip. Checking his communicator, Obi-Wan was relieved to see that Organa had secured them lodgings in a hotel near to the Senate building, but not close enough that Palpatine would be able to pick up on their Force Signatures. As they dipped below the planet’s outer atmosphere, he was struck by an intense feeling of nostalgia. So much of his life had revolved around this giant city; it was strange to be coming back as a wanted fugitive. As they approached the Imperial Center, his stomach twisted as the spires of the Jedi Temple came into view. He’d grown up there and trained there; somewhere within the structure, his quarters were still intact. Even from this distance, he could see the rows upon rows of Storm Troopers that guarded the entrance. Strangely, it seemed as if the wreckage he and Yoda had encountered just after the insurrection of Order 66 had been cleared away. Much of the damage done to the Temple had been repaired, though he couldn’t imagine why. He sighed and sat back, wrenching his gaze away from the window so he could center his thoughts. 

Thirty minutes later, they had gathered their belongings and disembarked. Leaving the landing pad, Obi-Wan hailed an air taxi while Anakin and Yoda conversed briefly on the change of sensations in the Force in Coruscant. Once the speeder arrived, they drew their hoods up and traveled in silence except for a brief exchange with the driver at the beginning and end of their journey. The hotel in question was Krabbis Inn, and it was situated somewhat close to the Senate Executive Building, but overall was closer to the Jedi Temple. The building was about four stories high and a light grey in color. A service droid at the welcome desk punched in their fake identities and grabbed a keycard from a slot behind it, indicating that they should follow. Their rooms were small but accommodating, with a sunken sitting area directly in front of the entryway with a holoscreen and an ancient-looking radio. The couch was a gaudy orange with two lime-green arm chairs on either side facing the screen. A small, rectangular window offered a dingy view of the streets; with mechanical curtains that could be closed or opened at the push of a button. Three portal-esque doors indicated separate sleeping areas; lined up on the right wall at the furthest end of the living room. Stepping in, one was presented with a double bed at floor-level that took up the entirety of the space; and a small panel in the wall allowed the resident to adjust the temperature in the room to their liking. The fresher was similarly small, with only a sonic shower, a toilet, and a sonic sink. There was also a small room that seemed to be trying to be a poor excuse for a ’relaxation’ chamber. A circular rug on the floor was framed by two pictures of nameless tumbling waterfalls. The space could be adjoined to the living room or closed off with a soundproof screen that was reached via an access panel on the wall. The entirety of the residence was the same chrome grey as the exterior, accentuated by long striplights in various neon colors. A small intercom by the door allowed for guests to contact the front desk, and the droid informed them that a complimentary breakfast was served in the cantina from 0700 to 1000, but that any other meal they might wish to have would cost them credits. There was no kitchen, which left them with the option of going out to buy food or eating in the building. 

After choosing their respective rooms and setting out what few belongings they had brought along, they sat down in the living area to discuss their plan of action. Yoda took the couch and Anakin and Obi-Wan sat in the respective armchairs on either side. Leaning forward, Obi-Wan deigned to speak first.

“We have exactly a week as of tomorrow to get this done” he said grimly. “Organa has given us a map of the layout of the Executive Senate Building, but we don’t know the rotation of the guards. Keeping in mind that all _three_ of us are going into this together, we have to accommodate for the fact that this is not a solo mission. It’s hard enough being stealthy on your own.”  
“What if we bait Palpatine?” Anakin said curiously. 

Obi-Wan frowned and Yoda ‘hmmed.’ 

“What do you mean?” the Jedi Master asked curiously.

The younger man shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, realistically, we have to assume Sidious knows I’m not dead. So, what if you pose as a mercenary who located me on some distant planet, and decided to bring me in for a bounty?” 

“That doesn’t factor Master Yoda into the equation” Obi-Wan said dryly. “His kind are exceptionally rare, and for me to have a sidekick that consequentially looks like the Jedi Grand Master would exponentially blow our cover.” He sat back. “Besides, how is a simple mercenary going to just _stumble_ over the great War General Anakin Skywalker, subdue him, and bring him back to Coruscant?”

“A good idea, Young Skywalker has” Yoda piped up, his ears wiggling. “However, the hostage in question, _I_ should be.” 

Comprehension dawned in Anakin’s eyes. 

“I could pretend I’ve been gone trying to locate you” he murmured. He turned to Obi-Wan. “Would it work?”

“You’d have to shield heavily” the older man replied reluctantly. “And what about me?”

At this, Anakin hesitated turning his gaze to Obi-Wan, whose breathed hitched as a tendril of explanation flowed through their connection in the Force.

“You want to use the Bond” he murmured. “To convince Palpatine I’ve been swayed to the Dark Side.” 

“Encourage love, the Dark Side does not” Yoda said quietly. 

“No, it doesn’t” Anakin replied grimly, still looking at Obi-Wan and gauging his reaction. “But Darth Sidious knows that attachment is a weakness that can cause a Jedi to fall. Obi-Wan would be a prize to him, an added bonus.” He looked away. “Count Dooku was your padawan, Master Yoda” he said quietly. “He defected to the Dark Side, but he was never truly a Sith. I’ve never seen a Sith so in control of their emotions as he was; there was no rage, no utter abandon. He knew how to manipulate the Dark Side without succumbing to it, but he hadn’t mastered it before I killed him. If Sidious had spared him, we would truly have no hope.” He took a deep breath. “Obi-Wan has the same traits as Dooku-emotionally-”he clarified when the Jedi Master opened his mouth to retort. “Your…your stability comes with the control you have over yourselves. Palpatine knows that, and he won’t let it pass by, not again.” 

There was silence between the three of them for a moment, as each man considered the plan of action laid before them. 

“…It could work” Obi-Wan said slowly. 

“A good plan this is” Yoda agreed, rising from the chair. “Tomorrow, work out the details we shall.” 

His walking stick tapped softly against the hard floor surfaces as he made his way to the ‘relaxation chamber.’ The door hissed shut behind them, leaving the two men alone in the room together. Anakin rose from his chair and moved to the couch, patting the cushion beside him in invitation. Obi-Wan rose slowly, settling himself down next to his former padawan with a soft sigh. Gently, Anakin laid his head on his shoulder, his nose nudging along the edge of his jaw as their Force Signatures twined contentedly.

“I understand if you don’t want to use the Bond for this” Anakin said quietly, lacing their hands together. “I don’t really want to either, but it was the best idea I could come up with.”

Obi-Wan smiled crookedly. 

“Honestly, Anakin. The idea of using our love to vanquish a Sith Lord isn’t unattractive to me at all. If I’m going to descend into the realm of hopeless soppiness, I’d say it was rather romantic.”

He was getting more used to Anakin’s often unpredictable displays of affection. As Obi-Wan tilted his chin to accept his lips, he realized that perhaps there was more to their actions than reckless abandon. Before…this….he’d felt controlled but not whole. Now, it was as if he’d been treading water just under the surface of a vast body of water, looking at the world through a thin film of aqueous nothingness. Anakin let him _breathe._ And if Yoda saw Anakin sprawled over his lap as he snored against the headrest, he didn’t say anything. 

Sometimes, in the worst of days, silence is the best form of observation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **R &R**


	14. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit Bedroom Scene

“Oh, good, you’re back.”

Obi-Wan blinked as the door to the hotel room shut behind him. Anakin was standing before him with his arms folded, though he hastened to step forward and take one of the grocery bags the older man was carrying once the door had closed. His face bespoke the usual _‘Anakin is terribly hungry and therefore very cranky’_ welcome wagon, and he huffed but didn’t deign to reply. He hated going shopping, especially when there weren’t any good deals within the immediate vicinity. Thankfully, he was more familiar with the commerce on Coruscant than on Tatooine, but it didn’t help that they were nestled in the center of the political district. Vendors drove up their prices with the knowledge that busy dignitaries would be quick to thoughtlessly spend credits on overpriced food in order to get to where they were going without any fuss. He’d had to haggle with a scruffy-looking merchant for well over an hour before he named a sum that was even halfway to fair. Following his former padawan to the couch, Obi-Wan watched him rip open the bag with the desperation of a man starved. He smirked inwardly as his face morphed into that of horror and resignation.

_“Really_?” Anakin groaned, picking up a familiar silvery packet. “You go out to one of the most diverse markets in the galaxy and you bring back _rations?”_ He dug around in the bag some more. “Oh, and water bottles. Great.” 

“We can’t afford to be going out every day to buy food” Obi-Wan explained, setting his bag next to Anakin’s. “It would draw unwanted attention, and we don’t have a cooling unit to store fresh food, rations will last us longer.” 

“Still…you couldn’t have brought back something…sweet or savory or something?” 

“Oh, poor, poor Anakin” Obi-Wan sighed, picking up a bottle of water. “Did you want a _cookie?”_ Ignoring the onslaught of resentful grumbling at his comment, he glanced around the room. “Where is Master Yoda?”

“Where do you think?” Anakin snorted, tearing the corner off of a ration and taking a resentful bite. “He’s meditating.” He chewed angrily and swallowed. “I think if I meditated that much I would turn into a rock.”

“Perish the thought you become enlightened” the older man muttered, digging his communicator out of his pocket. “Organa says that Palpatine should be in his offices from 2000 to 2200 the day after tomorrow.” He raised a brow at Anakin, who looked faintly contemplative. “How do you plan on contacting him?”

The younger man pulled out his datapadd and swiped at the commands. After a while, he handed the screen over to Obi-Wan, who looked it over carefully. Before him was an encrypted communications system that allowed for individuals to send holographic messages through a secure channel. The one in question ran directly to Palpatine’s office in the Senate.  
“…You had a private line with him?”

“Mmm” Anakin replied, his mouth full of his second bite of ration. Swallowing, he nodded to confirm his assent. “He gave it to me soon after the Clone Wars began. I can formulate and record a missive and send it to him.”

Obi-Wan gave him back the datapadd and rubbed a hand over his face.

“What if it jeopardizes our location?”

“I can record it here and one of us can travel elsewhere in the city to send it off. As long as the background is nondescript, he shouldn’t be able to trace me.” 

“We should do it against a blank wall, with no lighting that can be seen” Obi-Wan muttered, scanning the room swiftly. “There.” He pointed to a windowless expanse of chrome near the door that was devoid of decoration. “Would that do?”

“Yeah” was the amicable response. Anakin punched a few more buttons on the padd and a strangely familiar humming sound filled the room. “That’s the general ambience of your standard space-faring vessel” he explained. “If I play it during the recording, he’ll think I’m on a ship.” 

“Even better” Obi-Wan said enthusiastically. “Now, we should start formulating lines for the recording. Do you have anything in mind?”

Eventually, they agreed to both be present in the recording, though Obi-Wan wouldn’t deign to say anything as the more dialogue they offered the more chance it gave them to slip up and give themselves away. As Anakin formulated a succinct but clear message, Yoda wandered out of what they were now calling the ‘meditation area’ and sat down to watch their progress. He offered a few suggestions that were immensely helpful, and by the time evening had approached, they were all fairly sure that they could record something without worrying about inconsistencies. 

“We can always try again if we don’t get it right the first time” Anakin commented, fussing with the datapadd ‘till the screen angle was correct. He handed the device over to Master Yoda, who ‘hmmed’ and wiggled his ears. “Just push that button there when I give the signal.” 

He joined Obi-Wan at the blank wall near the door and drew up his hood, indicating that Obi-Wan should do the same. The young man was darkly resplendent in a black cloak Obi-Wan had managed to pack away in his luggage at the very last minute. He was intrinsically aware of how things could have gone differently, should Anakin have not been receptive to returning to the Light Side of The Force. His former padawan gestured to Yoda, who pushed the buttons on the datapadd and moved back towards the sunken living area to give them room. Almost immediately, the artificial hum of their ‘ship’ came through the small speakers and filled the room with a gentle but convincing ambience. The datapadd beeped twice, and Obi-Wan exhaled as a feeling of unease suddenly trickled down his spine. Anakin’s Force Signature suddenly recoiled, alarm spreading across the Bond as his mind worked out what had gone wrong. There was a staticy crackling noise and Darth Sidious’ face appeared on the screen of the datapadd, yellow eyes staring directly at them. 

_“Bow.”_ The command from Anakin was so strong he obeyed compulsively, sensing that the young man was doing the same. At once, his mind was racing through what could have possibly gone wrong. _“The channel must have been set to automatically link up to his specs whenever it was used”_ was Anakin’s clipped mental reply. _“Follow my lead, and don’t say **anything** unless you have to._

“Master” Anakin purred, stepping forward to open his arms in a gesture of greeting. “I have great news for you.” 

Sidious was still silent, his eyes traveling what scope their end of the camera would allow. Obi-Wan felt a surge of breathless relief at his insistence that they had planned to record along a blank wall. 

***“You have been gone a long time, Darth Vader” was the growled response. “What makes you think I wish to train you in the ways of the Dark Side now?”***

“I apologize for my absence” was the cool reply with just trace amounts of haughtiness. “Obi-Wan and I have been busy apprehending the Jedi Traitor Master Yoda.” 

***“Obi-Wan Kenobi is just as much a traitor as that green-headed goblin!”*** Sidious snarled. 

“Not anymore” Anakin said, allowing triumph to suffuse his voice. “I showed him the greatness of the Dark Side, and he willingly swore himself to our cause.” 

***“And you expect me to believe that a member of the Jedi Council simply _bowed_ in deference to the theories of the Dark Side after years of training?”** was the sneered reply. ***“Forgive me if I am less than ignorant of such proclivities.”***

For a minute, it appeared as if Anakin’s shields might drop and Obi-Wan sent a rush of reassurance through their mental link. 

_“I’m going to have to physically present the Bond.”_

Anakin’s tone was apologetic and unhappy, and the older man understood. He was reluctant to share such an intimate part of their relationship with someone so inherently evil. Sidious could easily use their feelings for each other against one another should the need arise. A tickle against his consciousness indicated that Anakin had begun to manifest the representation and he steeled himself for the inevitable. There was the usual rush of affection as his former padawan’s psyche beckoned to his, but instead of rushing towards it as he usually did, Obi-Wan forced himself to move slowly; like that of one held in thrall rather than someone who had submitted willingly. Threads of soft shimmering light appeared in front of them; nuances of both of their essences reaching out to combine physically and metaphysically. Along with their individual hues there were two strands of onyx and an insidious red; malevolent and intrinsically dark. To the outside observer, it would appear that Anakin had used their Bond to make Obi-Wan his mental slave, but inwardly both knew that the ascendancy bands were simply illusions. Comprehension dawned on Palpatine’s face as the manifestation of their link hovered in front of them, a cruel smirk crossing his features. 

***“…You told me you never dissolved your padawan bond with Obi-Wan”*** he chuckled darkly. ***“Now I see why.”*** Long, gruesomely pale fingers steepled themselves in front of the screen. ***“And have you apprehended the Traitor?”***

“Yes, Master” Anakin murmured, and Obi-Wan sighed as the nuances of their Bond faded away once more. “Jedi Master Yoda has been apprehended, and we await your command.” 

There was silence for a while and Obi-Wan sensed Anakin strengthening their shields, throwing a practically impenetrable shroud of Force-imbued protection around them. He felt a rush of pride as he acknowledged that the young man’s skills and disciplines had improved drastically. 

***“Bring him to me in my office tomorrow”*** the Sith Lord finally answered. ***“I will be there between 1500 and 1600. You have done well…my apprentice.”***

The connection was abruptly cut, and Yoda hastened to rejoin them, flipping the datapadd over; camera side to the floor. Anakin ripped back his hood, stepping forward and bringing his heel down so the padd snapped in two. There was an abrupt inward-spiral of The Force and the remains burst into flames; reduced to a pile of charred nothingness in the space of a few seconds. The tension in the room was thick as they tried to assess what had just happened. 

“He didn’t trace us” Anakin said hoarsely. “So I guess that’s something.” He slumped down on the couch. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Do we want to do this?” Obi-Wan queried, crossing to stand in front of the holoscreen. “It’s not what we originally planned.”

“Right young Skywalker is” Yoda commented, hobbling his way over to one of the armchairs. “A disturbance in the Force, I feel. Not solid, this course of action may be.” He thumped his walking stick on the floor. “However, the only option we have this is, or fail our ploy will.” 

“So we proceed” Obi-Wan said grimly. 

“It’s either that or leave” Anakin muttered, running a hand over his brow. “And if we do, we leave Sidious with the knowledge that there are at least three Jedi somewhere in the galaxy who absolutely want to kill him.” 

The group discussed the matter a little more, but none of them could see any other viable option. They had played their hand and been thrown for a wild loop, but if they were wary and cautious, things might still work in their favor. The change of date didn’t alter their goals; they were still aiming to assassinate the self-proclaimed Emperor of the Galaxy. Whether all of them survived it or not was irrelevant, it was necessary. Even without the presence of the Jedi, there were still good people in the Senate that wanted to see the Republic rebuilt. Sometimes, the largest of endeavors require the smallest of efforts to be put into motion. If they could be even the tiniest of cogs in the mechanisms of a positive move towards reform, at least they had done something. Hiding out in the far corners of the Galaxy didn’t bring about change, and they couldn’t rely on the fact that anyone else would step up in their place should they fail. Ultimately, the stakes were high, and with Palpatine having surprised them with a time and date for their meeting, they were at a disadvantage. Obi-Wan tried to be appreciative of the fact that they were working together for a good cause, but as their chances of success grew slimmer by the hour, it was hard to remain optimistic.

After several hours of debate, Yoda drifted off to the meditation room and Anakin got up to fetch a water bottle and a pack of rations, which he split with Obi-Wan. It was 2100 when Obi-Wan decided to retire to his room to meditate and sleep in order to prepare for the next day. Yoda had chosen the room furthest to the left, with Anakin in the middle, and Obi-Wan on the far right. So far, neither man had visited the other in the wee hours of the morning looking for physical comfort, but it was mostly in order to respect the fact that Yoda would likely be able to sense their close proximity. Tonight however, was very different. Obi-Wan had just finished meditating and was heading back from using the ‘fresher when he was distinctly aware of Anakin behind him. Reaching out into the Bond he was surprised to sense determination mixed with apprehension and a touch of shyness. Smiling over his shoulder, he ducked into his room and moved back to recline on the bed as the younger man followed, shedding his cloak. The door hissed shut and Anakin grimaced as the cold air flowing through the space hit him full force. 

“Kriff, you like it cold when you sleep don’t you?” he muttered, settling down on the pillow opposite and rolling onto his side to face the older man. 

“Not all of us grew up on a desert planet” Obi-Wan said dryly, pulling the covers up over the two of them. 

There was a moment of silence in which he could still sense Anakin’s apprehension, and he cupped his cheek, watching as soft lips parted slightly as skin came in contact with skin. Anakin’s organic hand came up to play with his beard, a gesture that was achingly familiar from when he was a child; slender fingers carding through rough bristles, tracing the line of his jaw. They kissed languidly, breath intermingling as their Force signatures bloomed around them; confined to the recesses of the room in a swirl of unconscious color. Tongues met in a dance that was both comforting and addicting, the moist prurient heat of mouths and flesh an undeniable temptation that both succumbed to. Anakin’s cheeks flushed gently with arousal, his skin heated and yielding as they descended into the depths of desire. Before long, clothes were being gently but determinedly removed; tunics littering the bed in a blend of tan and onyx, pants discarded and forgotten as fingers tugged at underclothes and hair. 

The first brush of their unclothed bodies against one another sent stars bursting across Obi-Wan’s eyes. Anakin’s form was lithe, muscular but lean and undeniably beautiful. He felt old, insignificant and ugly next to him, but the thought vanished as soft lips closed over his nipples, sucking hungrily and bringing a desperate noise up from the back of his throat. His hips jerked and his erection was brought flush against Anakin’s and they both moaned, lips intermingling for a somewhat sloppy, distracted kiss. Obi-Wan’s head was spinning, a mix of both pleasure and overwhelmed ecstasy at the feel of the Force searing through his body; white-hot and unrelenting. He spread his legs instinctively as Anakin settled between them, long fingers grasping his hips as he carded his hands through the wealth of the younger man’s hair. 

“Take me” he gasped. “Please, Anakin.” There was a pause then, and the ripple of shyness he had first felt returned. Trying to catch his breath, he let his fingers wander over Anakin’s cheeks, searching his eyes for the reason for his hesitation. The younger man swallowed and ducked his head. Then, with a swiftness that was astonishing, he rolled them so that Obi-Wan was on top and kissed him tenderly, mouthing gently at the edge of his lips as he sent an invitation through the bond. “You…you want me to..?” 

A hand grasped his to guide it downwards, past Anakin’s need and down his perineum to the soft opening beneath. Desire and _need_ rushed through their combined psyche and Obi-Wan gasped at the amount of feeling that suffused the connection.

“I’ve spent so much of my life taking” Anakin murmured, running his hands down Obi-Wan’s back. “I wanna give you this. It’s something new for you…and…and I want it to be new for me too.” 

Still, Obi-Wan hesitated, but then Anakin was kissing him, opening his legs and arching his back in an invitation that was unmistakable. Heat rose to suffuse the uncertain and tentative line of his thinking and he groaned, trembling as a different kind of desire rose within him. There was no push to rush towards the end in a spiral of frantic haste, only a slow, desirous burn that started in his belly and twined its way through every limb ‘till it hung in a golden haze over both of them. Something was pressed gently into his palm and Obi-Wan pulled back to look at the small bottle Anakin had offered him. Raising a brow in silent question, he felt a faint tug of amusement as the younger man smirked. 

“Got it on Alderaan” he replied. “You use it to…ease the way.” 

Drawing in a deep breath, Obi-Wan uncapped the bottle and poured a small amount on his index finger, a small exclamation of surprise passing his lips as it instantly warmed after coming in contact with his skin. A long, lean arm brought him back down to Anakin’s lips, and he let the hand descend to circle slowly and gently against his entrance, drawing back every so often to watch the younger man’s reaction. It was a slow process, one that was punctuated by the occasional hesitant laugh or prurient hitch of breath. Part of him acknowledged the soft, welcoming smoothness of Anakin’s body; of how utterly _warm_ he was and how it would feel to be inside of him. The man in question was infinitely patient as he was stretched, teeth sinking into the plush pout of his bottom lip as Obi-Wan added a second finger. The lube that he had purchased seemed to have an agent that encouraged the body to relax and accept intrusion, taking whatever discomfort that might be felt and mutating it into pleasure. It wasn’t until the bottle was half empty and he had three fingers scissoring him open that Anakin grabbed his wrist and urged him to stop. 

“Enough” he huffed. “‘M ready.”

The younger man twisted slightly to reach the lube and reached down with trembling hands to apply it to Obi-Wan’s length, guiding the head of his arousal to his entrance and spreading himself wide. Here again, Obi-Wan hesitated, looked uncertainly at Anakin as they sat poised on the edge of Oblivion.

“Are you sure?” he murmured. 

Anakin rolled his eyes and cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek.

“I’m sure” he replied. 

And _oh_ he was warm, wet, and tight. With each inch of careful intrusion, Obi-Wan was sure he would lose every ounce of control. It was all he could do to not pull back and move mindlessly, taking every bit of yearning he felt for himself. Through the Bond he could sense Anakin’s presence, reeling with the pleasure of being filled and balancing his discomfort with careful finesse. And then, after what seemed like hours he was fully seated in his former padawan’s body, flush against him as they both fought to catch their breath. Determined to do this right, he waited for Anakin to give him permission to move. That permission came as a breathless whisper in the Force, stretched across a horizon of something that he’d been waiting for what seemed like his entire existence to hear. Kneeling-hands gripping legs underneath knees-and with the first tentative thrust Anakin _moaned_ and arched, his mouth falling open, his body flushing as his eyes rolled back. And Obi-Wan could _feel_ what he felt, feel the heavy intrusion of his length even as Anakin’s muscles fluttered around him. Hands clutched at his back as he drove himself into that welcoming heat for a second time, his head falling forward as he gave himself over to desire.

Force Signatures fused, combining in a frenetic burst of color and Obi-Wan was sure that Yoda couldn’t miss what was happening two doors down from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Certainly not when Anakin had risen up on his elbows to meet him thrust for thrust, desperate, pleading noises rising up from the back of his throat. Hands urged him downwards and he obeyed mindlessly, grinding thoughtlessly as a breathy _‘oh’_ fell from Anakin’s lips, surprise flashing red-hot across the Bond.

“Are you alright?” he demanded, stilling immediately.

“D-don’t stop!” was the stuttered response. “J-just there, there, feels so good. Please.”

Resuming his actions, Obi-Wan sifted through what meager knowledge of male anatomy he had, smirking mildly as he came to a somewhat enlightening conclusion. It took a few tries, but he was eventually able to hit the same spot and Anakin cried out, his hand rising to cover his mouth and muffle his voice.

“That” Obi-Wan panted. “Is your prostate. It’s like a g-spot, for men.”

And before the younger man could formulate any kind of reply, he focused all of his energy on thrusting into that spot. He came to the immediate conclusion that watching Anakin come undone was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was as responsive in pleasure as he was when it came to his other emotions, and Obi-Wan embraced it. He treasured the nails leaving half-moon indents on his hips as he was gripped tightly, and the way Anakin’s mouth fell open with every roiling throb that ran through his body. The silken, supple caress against his arousal was all-encompassing; flush and swollen with simulation, blanketed in intermittent heat. And beneath it all were the currents of their affection, the acknowledgement of a shared experience that went beyond any other…singing love across space and time ‘till Obi-Wan wanted to weep for the beauty of it. 

_“I love you.”_

Whispered, caressed against the deepest shadows of his mind; opening like the curling, outward bursts of a dying star to paint itself across his synapses. Belly to belly, soul to soul, mouth against mouth and if the world should crumble around them he supposed it wouldn’t really matter. There was only the constant, reciprocate loop of their affections, the utterances of devotion that were spoken without words. And Obi-Wan understood fully why relationships between two Jedi were so forbidden; he could get _lost_ in this, in the meshing of their bodies and psyches, thrown into an oblivion of intimacy and attachment with no hope for escape. Then, just as he was sure it couldn’t get any more passionate, Anakin’s hands were on his face and he was groaning that he couldn’t hold on anymore, that he had to let go. Obi-Wan could feel his End rushing towards him with unstoppable force and he shuddered for the power in it, sweat beading on their skin as they prepared for the inevitable. 

“Thank you” he murmured. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” And the sob that was wrenched from the younger man’s throat was echoed with his own. “Let go, Anakin.” 

And he could _feel_ every moment of his orgasm, as if experiencing it for himself-feel the hot rush of white that enveloped his vision-like Anakin was wild untamed crest of a wave crashing against solid shore. He arched and cried out, a sound that Obi-Wan swallowed with his lips as he met his own end within him; shivering as he felt the searing heat of his own seed spilling inside of Anakin. Their Soul Signatures combined, disappeared into each other in what could only be a permanent bonding and the air contorted into an explosion of colors, wrenched from the nuances of the Force to braid and combine. Light rushed across joined palms only to fuse where fate line met fate line in a roaring contusion of perpetuity. He was dimly aware of the fact that they were both shivering; caught in the seemingly endless aftershocks of what had occurred; each burst of pleasure an undulation of pulse…a tangle of limbs and fluid and exhaustion. Long fingers reached up to card through Obi-Wan’s hair and he exhaled shakily, nuzzling the crook of Anakin’s neck as he attempted to regain his composure. It was a long time before either of them moved.

Eventually, Obi-Wan lifted his head to find sapphire blue eyes staring at him through heavy lids. There was a contented, sated expression on Anakin’s face that he hadn’t seen in recent memory. They kissed absentmindedly, gratefully for a moment before Obi-Wan pulled out and rolled to the side, watching as his former padawan shuddered and grimaced as the remnants of his release pooled underneath him to stain the sheets. Both ignored it for the moment, too tired to worry about cleaning themselves up or searching for new bedding. 

“…Was that alright?” Obi-Wan asked, a flicker of uncertainty settling in his stomach.

Anakin licked his lips, letting his head loll to the side so he could face him. That familiar, sardonic half-smirk was back, accompanied with a rush of affection through the Bond that made his heart ache.

“It was amazing” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “I mean it” he insisted, lifting a weary hand to grasp Obi-Wan’s wrist. _“Inkabunga, grancha…”_ He blinked sleepily and-with an effort-rolled onto his side. _“Bsha”_ he muttered, shoving on Obi-Wan’s chest so he moved to the middle of the bed with a startled ‘oof.’ A calloused palm slid over his chest as Anakin intertwined their limbs, tucking his head under Obi-Wan’s chin and closing his eyes. Above them, the now-fused colors of their Soul Signatures coiled and flickered…a soft reminder of what had occurred. “Even if I die tomorrow, at least I can pass knowing I gave you what little I had left to offer.” 

“Oh, hush” Obi-Wan murmured, his eyelids drooping. 

There was a soft, weary chuckle of response.

“…Love you.”

“And I you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Random Clarifications:**  
>  Inkabunga, grancha-incredible, so good  
> Bsha-move
> 
> **A/N:** Ooh, curve ball when it comes to the whole Palpatine thing. He caught our heroes off-guard, we shall see what comes of it! This is probably the hardest I have ever worked on a love scene. I actually struggle to write them, a lot, because I never feel like I quite do things correctly, but I am feeling 'just okay' with this one. Anakin was always going to be the first one to..receive, and the reason is pretty well explained within the text (I hope). Despite the brevity, it took me hours upon hours to write this, and I truly, truly hope I did our couple some justice. 
> 
> **R &R**


	15. Of Bonds and Battles

_‘Tah pee-chah ah kulkee flunka’_

Obi-Wan jerked awake as the comment seared across his psyche, wincing at the sudden stickiness that pervaded his senses. He was distinctly aware of being pressed up against Anakin, who was facing away from him and still evidently asleep. One of his arms was thrown over the fluid curve of a hip and the other was half-asleep underneath his body. Another barrage of Tatooinian rubbish tumbled its way through his synapses and Obi-Wan paused. He _knew_ he didn’t speak that much Huttese, so why was his brain suddenly conjuring up fully formed phrases loud enough to pull him from the realms of sleep? Glancing at the chronometer, he was surprised to see it was only around 0500, he’d thought it would be much later. The image of a woman who looked suspiciously like Shmi was thrown to the forefront of his brain, cheering and laughing from what looked like the sidelines of a pod race. Putting a hand to his head, Obi-Wan tried to slow his frantically racing thoughts. Evidently, their copulation had done something to their Bond, though whether the alteration was good or bad had yet to be seen. Reaching a solitary thread of awareness into the Force, Obi-Wan barely managed to keep himself from uttering an exclamation out loud. Their Soul Signatures were-as far as he could tell-combined. What were once two separate metaphysical psyches were now one, thick thread of intercrossing colors that suffused the entire spectrum. Widening his observational scope, Obi-Wan realized that he could feel Anakin’s emotions without trying; his conscious was somnolent in the throes of sleep but bypassing it revealed the virile tempest of his unconscious; vibrant and wholly aware. 

Withdrawing, Obi-Wan steadied himself with a deep breath. Essentially, their Bond had been solidified, merging their minds with a kind of hypothetical channel through which emotions, feelings, and thoughts could traverse. The Padawan Bond allowed for the transfer of particularly strong feelings and deliberate communications, but this Bond felt uninhibited. It concerned him, because no matter what he tried to do, he couldn’t close Anakin off. If he tried particularly hard, he could throw up a somewhat stable ‘bubble’; but it only lasted for a second or two before the whispers of the younger man’s psyche began to pervade. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, really. If he could compare it to anything, it was rather like Anakin was here in his arms, and in his psychological arms as well. There was an intimacy to their closeness that was almost tentative…carefully fragile but indescribably strong. A murmur of complaint drew Obi-Wan from his thoughts, and he watched warily as Anakin shifted lazily; feeling guilty as a twinge of pain arced across the Bond. Without opening his eyes, the younger man turned and draped his leg over Obi-Wan’s hip, his hand reaching up to card across his cheek. Deciding that now was probably better than later to bring up their current predicament, the older man sent a soft greeting across their combined psyches.

_“Anakin…”_

The young man’s emotional reaction was immediate. Shock contorted in a desperate pull before throwing itself forward in a roar of utter panic. Anakin jerked backwards, but Obi-Wan followed, determined not to let him run away. _Confusion, Embarrassment, Vulnerability_ …Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and pushed back with a desperate suffusion of comfort and affection. Their minds clashed briefly before settling on a somewhat stable middle ground. 

“What’s going on?” Anakin muttered, a hand over his face in a desperate attempt to calm his thoughts. “I…I can _hear_ you in my head!.”

“Something must have happened when we…when we…” Obi-Wan flushed and gestured. 

Anakin raised an eyebrow, his distress momentarily forgotten. 

“When we had sex?” he finished dryly. He snorted as the older man proceeded to turn even redder. “ Seriously? You can see inside my head and you’re still blushing like some sort of schoolgirl?”

“Yes, well, now the Bond is stronger” Obi-Wan replied, determined to ignore Anakin’s jibing. “Actually, it’s really more like a channel now than anything.” When Anakin didn’t deign to reply, he frowned and nudged him irritably. “What are you doing?”

The young man was silent for a while longer, his eyes vacant and nondescript. Obi-Wan was ready to chew his way through the comforter by the time he sighed and ran his organic hand up his chest.

“It’s just as I thought” he grumbled. “You’re just as boring in there as you are in real life.”

“Oh, do stop” Obi-Wan murmured, unable to stop the twinge of sadness that flashed across his chest. 

Immediately, Anakin’s expression softened. 

“I’m just teasing you” he said quietly, cupping his cheek. “You know I love you.”

The warm, effervescent sensation that flowed across the Bond left Obi-Wan slightly giddy, so when Anakin swooped in to kiss him he wasn’t entirely paying attention. If he’d thought that the night before had been intense when it came to emotional transfer, he was entirely wrong. Neither of them were prepared for the onslaught that psychically combined arousal could provide, and it was soon very clear that they wouldn’t be getting out of bed any time soon. Hands gripped hair, tongues tangled and wasn’t long before Anakin was rutting into the sheets and begging Obi-Wan to _‘just fuck me already’_ and _‘-Anakin I can’t find the lube-’_ but no _‘-kriff, I’m still wet from last night, just hurry up…’_. And then it was all broken moans and slick bodies….followed by _‘did I just let you screw me raw?! E chu ta!! Never let me agree to that ever again_ intense embarrassment at the fact that the room was a disaster, _they_ were a disaster and there was no way they were getting this past Yoda. 

 

Eventually, Anakin mustered up enough courage to stumble across the living room and into the ‘fresher, though Obi-Wan suspected that it had more to do with being covered in copious amounts of ejaculate than anything else. Through their now ridiculously sensitive Bond, he sensed the younger man’s relief at not having encountered Master Yoda. Deciding not to waste any time, Obi-Wan dressed, gathered up the sheets, flipped the mattress, and hurried out of the room to throw their ruined clothes in the laundry. Acquiring a new set of sheets from the concierge, he rushed back up and remade his bed, finally slowing down to search his awareness to ascertain Anakin’s location. The young man was rifling about the kitchen, grumbling mentally over their lack of anything faintly delicious. Throwing a tendril of affectionate chastisement his way, Obi-Wan rushed to remake the bed, grabbed some clean clothes and stepped into the ‘fresher. Despite the fact that the shower was sonic, the feeling of being instantly clean was an indescribable relief. 

_‘Interesting…’_

Obi-Wan sighed and fished for the nozzle to turn off the shower as Anakin’s voice murmured through his mind.

_‘What’s interesting?’_

_‘I can feel you…touching your skin…if I concentrate enough.’_ There was a whisper of echoing sensation, of when Obi-Wan had idly brushed a hand over a nipple as he showered, but the realization that Anakin had been watching brought his arousal and embarrassment to the forefront. Gritting his teeth, he hastily shut off the sonics and hurriedly began to dress. _‘I feel you…so much more…’_

_‘Yes, well, maybe now is not the time to think about that’_ he replied curtly. There was a soft mental hiccup of what could only be perceived as a derisive snort, and he rolled his eyes. _‘Enough, Anakin. Our focus today is very serious.”_

Running a hand through his slightly damp hair, Obi-Wan exited the ‘fresher and crossed the room to sit on the ugly couch. Fussing with the remote, he eventually got the holoscreen up and running, though the news was unsurprising and generally disheartening overall. Anakin had disappeared, but his mental threads showed him to be in the small hotel dining room scoping out the breakfast selection. There was an assortment of general morning foodstuffs, though the younger man bypassed them to rifle happily through a colorful array of sliced fruit. Beside them were a variety of pastries, ranging from almond-kwevvu crisp-munchies, xirlia, and-

_‘-That one.’_

Anakin paused, his hand hovering over a zucca fruit-roll. Obi-Wan mentally ‘pointed’ at the item in question again, and acknowledgement from the younger man floated across the Bond.

_‘The Trammistan chocolate?’_

_‘Yes’_ the older man said, watching triumphantly as Anakin picked up the aforementioned donut and wrapped it in a napkin. 

_‘Don’t expect room-service all the time, Master.’_

_‘I’d never be so foolish. Grab some fruit and vegetables for Master Yoda would you?’_

Yoda emerged from his room around 0800, by which time both had finished eating and had cleaned up most of their mess. The elderly Jedi ‘hmmed’ happily when Anakin offered him a selection of fresh fruits and vegetables, and they sat watching the holoscreen in amicable silence as the Grand Master worked his way through his meal. It was hard-Obi-Wan reflected-to concentrate on the screen when the conscious whispers of the man he’d just made love to were simply a turn of awareness away. He could easily lose himself in the nuances of Anakin’s mind, drifting down errant corridors of thought ‘till he could reach into every corner of his soul; wrapped in everything that defined who he was and what he could become. There was a silent acknowledgement that none of them would speak of what had happened the night before out loud. Yoda’s neglect to mention the suddenly ridiculously powerful Soul Bond in the room was proof enough for Obi-Wan that it wasn’t to be discussed, and Anakin was thankfully tactful enough not to say anything stupid. 

They briefly went over their plans concerning Palpatine again, but it soon became clear that none of them had had any new or enlightening ideas. Obi-Wan drifted off to meditate near lunch and Anakin took a brief nap in his room, his Force Signature soft and languid. After a while, Obi-Wan joined him and they talked for a while; leaning against opposite walls discussing errant things, of when Anakin was young or their missions during the Clone Wars. Though the time they spent together was simple and sweet, it left a feeling of foreboding in Obi-Wan’s stomach. Anakin was treating every conversation as if it was their last, and despite the fact that he now had full access to Anakin’s mind; he couldn’t unravel exactly what the young man was planning. Occasionally, he’d catch snippets of thought that were let loose, but every time he got close his former padawan would switch his mental focus to something else…something soothing and airy. 

The general plan was to allow Yoda to distract Palpatine, keeping their ruse up as long as possible ‘till they were able to move in for a swift, succinct killing blow. None of them wanted a long and complicated battle that allowed for the Emperor to imbue ridiculous amounts of villainous dialogue. There were no arguments to be had, and no points to be made. When the time came to make their way to the Republic Executive building, they gathered their cloaks and lightsabers in a kind of resigned silence. Yoda was-expectedly-more demure about the whole affair; holding his three-fingered hands out for the energy cuffs with a patient and slightly amused expression. Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s utter shame at having to humiliate a revered member of Jedi society as he put them on; but the old Grand Master was kind and reassuring. They made a great fuss about going the ‘round-about way to the Senate Building, traversing a circumference nearly five miles away from their hotel before coming back in a sleek speeder Anakin managed to charm off a pretty-looking transport vendor for twenty credits an hour. None of them spoke as they touched down on the landing pad outside the vast building, though Obi-Wan occasionally caught Anakin’s consciousness brushing against his, instinctually seeking comfort. More than once he was forced to question if their love-making might have dire consequences, even now, he felt less grounded then he usually did. Anakin’s mental presence made him sharply attentive but at the same time slightly euphoric. 

They were greeted by a small squadron of Clones-though now Obi-Wan supposed he ought to be calling them Storm Troopers-who greeted them somewhat suspiciously before leading them into the facility. Both men made a point to stay directly on either side of Yoda, alert for any sign of trouble. It seemed that their fears were unfounded, as a red-clad trooper dismissed the rest of the squad and led them into an elevator that would take them directly to the Chancellor’s office. Once there, he saluted Anakin and left them; hastening back the way they had come with nary a glance in their direction. Before them, the doors to the Chancellor’s office swung open and Anakin made to step through but Obi-Wan stopped him by throwing an arm out to catch him across the chest. The young man threw him a questioning look, and he subtly shook his head. 

_‘Something’s wro-’_

-Before he could even finish his mental sentence, a wild and unrelenting push from behind had them flying forwards, unable to react. Yoda landed with far more grace than either of them, sprinting towards the double doors, which shut and latched with an ominous hiss. Anakin threw himself upward and onto a high-point, eyes scanning the room; which was undeniably, dishearteningly empty. Bringing his lightsaber up, Obi-Wan cursed as the lights were cut; metal shields slamming down to obscure their view of the outside. A low, malicious laugh echoed across the space; seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. In the center of the room, a holo-comm popped up and a snarl echoed through the Bond as Palpatine’s hooded figure appeared in front of them.

***“Did you really think I’d be so foolish as to fall for your ridiculous attempt to deceive me?”*** The Sith Lord’s voice was an oily, oleaginous smear across Obi-Wan’s synapses; slithering into his recognition like that of a serpent rearing its head and preparing to strike. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that Yoda had disabled the restraints on his wrists via the Force and brought out his lightsaber; its green glow silhouetting his face. ***“You’ve been gone far too long, Skywalker, and your Signature is absolutely _ruined_ by your reversion to the Light Side…not to mention the…mutation of whatever is between yourself and Obi-Wan Kenobi.”*** There was a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision, and Obi-Wan turned to see that they were surrounded by twelve members of the Red Guard. ***“I don’t have the time to try and turn any of you at this point”*** Sidious continued as they moved to stand back to back. ***“It would be a fruitless effort, and frankly, all of you are far too damaged to make proper apprentices. A shame, really…so much potential, utterly wasted. You really should have known better than to fall into the clutches of such a simple reiteration.** * There was a low chuckle. ***“A ruse to thwart a ruse, quite ironic don’t you think? Give Qui-Gon Jinn my _sincerest_ regards, I’m sure you’ll be seeing him very soon.***

The holo flickered out and there was an ominous hum as the Guard activated their force pikes in unison; swinging them forward to close in on them almost as if they were a single entity. Bringing his saber up into the guard position, Obi-Wan set his mouth in a grim line. These were the most highly-trained defenders the Galaxy had to offer; they could possibly hold their own against six-even seven-but not twelve. Training for the Senatorial Guard was just as rigorous as that of the Jedi, with initiates being brought in at birth and raised only to know loyalty to their government. There would be no negotiation, they had received their orders to kill, and nothing would dissuade them. 

_‘Anakin, we need to get our backs to a wall, it’s no good fighting them like this.’_

_‘Yeah, I’m on it‘_ was the uncharacteristically grim response.

A flash at the other end of the room drew the attention of the Guard for a moment, but barely a second passed before their red-hooded heads snapped back to their intended targets. Simultaneously, Anakin went flying over the perimeter of the human barricade, landing behind the Guards that were directly in front of Obi-Wan. As one, they pressed in to attack, and Yoda vaulted between them as the two guards fell; blocking an upswing that would have eviscerated Obi-Wan. Once they had made their move, the rest of the Guard descended like flies to flesh, and it was a whir of blurring blades and the occasional cry of pain when someone managed to land a hit. There was no room for any exchange of tactics or time to check to see if someone was grievously injured; a sea of red had descended and they could do naught but battle the wash of the tide; sweat beading down foreheads as time wore on. All of them had fought countless species of aliens in great numbers, but there was always time for planning and implementation. Palpatine had played his hand in a way that left them with one way out; down. 

Anakin’s Force Signature surged, Obi-Wan gasped and nearly dropped his lightsaber, only managing to throw it up in time to block the next blow. There was a howl as glass scraped against metal and the great windows surrounding them exploded outwards; raining shards of razor-thin glass and durasteel onto the streets below. 

_‘It’s too far to jump!_ Obi-Wan protested. 

_‘We’re not the ones going out.’_

Understanding the implications behind Anakin’s comment, Obi-Wan switched his saber to the opposite hand and threw his free palm forward; watching as the three members of the Guard he’d been battling flew backwards over the dull-colored ledge and disappeared. He repeated the gesture twice more, until Yoda caught on and took over; allowing him to rush over to lend aid to Anakin, who was attempting to call their rented speeder up to the tower from a great distance. The younger man was bleeding generously from a cut on his arm but he brushed Obi-Wan’s worried ministrations away; the wind kicking up his hair as the speeder appeared before them. To their credit, none of the members of the Guard screamed as they fell. They were eerily silent as their crimson-clad bodies plummeted over the edge and disappeared. Not one gave any indication of surrender or fear, and when the last one had been dispatched in as merciful a method possible, they piled into the speeder and left Senate offices behind. 

Once he was fairly confident that they weren’t being pursued, Obi-Wan threw his psyche through the Bond to latch onto Anakin; who grimaced and jerked the speeder’s steering wheel slightly. Peeling back layers of consciousness, the older man was relieved to see the wound was long but not deep, and that the Force Saber had mostly cauterized it on its own. It would need a bacta treatment, but that was it. Likewise, Anakin’s awareness searched Obi-Wan for any hidden injuries, and appeared to collapse in relief when he observed that his wounds were minor. Once they were both significantly reassured of the other’s well being; their essences combined in what could really only be described as a mental embrace…an anchoring to familiarity and affection. Obi-Wan ached to touch Anakin but restrained himself out of respect for Yoda, who was unharmed but looked very weary. 

“I’m sorry” Anakin said finally, after they’d been flying in silence for a while. “I shouldn’t have contacted Palpatine beforehand, we should’ve just shown up.”

“Infallible, no plan is” Yoda replied. “Our best, we did. Failed, we did. Move on, we must.”

_‘It’s not your fault’_ Obi-Wan murmured, curling himself around the distressed coil of Anakin’s conscience. _‘It was a good plan, Anakin. Never give in to despair because the enemy out-thinks you.’_

The lights of Coruscant flashed by them as they made their escape, blurring into streaks of luminescent nothingness that sailed across their eyes. Obi-Wan could only hope that they got another opportunity, and soon. If they didn’t kill Darth Sidious, the Galaxy was bound for a dark future, regardless of whether they lived to see it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I just want to address a few things before I go off to deal with this horrendous cold again. You'll probably notice that I lean more towards romanticism than emotional turmoil/hatred/character manipulation. Realistically, there are things that run tangent with this plot that are canon, and then things that don't; and I know some of you are used to either seeing Anakin bring Obi-Wan over to the Dark Side or vice versa due to infatuation, but I'm not much of an advocate for over-dramatizing 'dark' aspects. My goal with writing fanfiction has always been to highlight the 'impossible love' the 'love that knows no boundaries or limitations.' I spent eighteen years under the influence of Major Depressive Disorder, thinking that I had no support and no reason to live-and if I did that those reasons would someday disappear because nothing positive was permanent to me-until I got some help...and I realized there is _so much_ to live for. So...when I pull chars out of darkness, into love, or through trials and tribulations; it's a stark reflection of how I truly believe there is something out there for all of us. I will warn you that the point of this story is not so much about hate, anger or fear as it is about love, devotion, and dedication.


	16. Mount Tantiss

_I want to apologize ahead of time for the amount of text and lack of dialogue in this chapter...I got a little carried away but I think the plot is appreciable nevertheless._  
___

They had made a horrible mistake.

Somewhere, in the land of the living, Yoda was attempting to regulate potentially catastrophic bands of Dark Force manifestation; hovering between consciousness and meditation in a grim state of focus. He had warned them, and they had ignored his cautions, diving into their impassioned feelings head first, and now they were paying for it. Distantly, Obi-Wan was aware of Anakin screaming; of pain that arced across their too-solid Bond in hot, red waves of searing psychic agony. There was a heartbeat behind his eyes, painful in the dull, throbbing way that only severe unconscious manipulation can cause. His skin felt too tight, like it was stretched over his bones until every sinew was extended to the limits of its capacity; calcium and protein melding in an unbearable symphony. Obi-Wan was vaguely acknowledging of the fact that there was blood under his fingernails from where they were digging into his arms-that he was intentionally causing himself physical pain-desperately trying to anchor himself in whatever type of reality he could retain….

It had begun the evening before.

Remaining on Coruscant was never an option. Sidious wasn’t there in any case, and anyone affiliated with the Sith regime would be looking for them. They’d killed fourteen members of the Red Guard and blown out the top of the Executive Senate building, it would be a stroke of luck if their faces weren’t all over the news. Despite the fact that Anakin was obviously aching to see his children on Alderaan, they didn’t dare return there in case they were tailed. With Palpatine likely monitoring even the slightest glitch for their Force Signatures, they couldn’t risk putting a pacifist planet in such danger. 

After some debate and speculation, they agreed that pursuing any indicators of Darth Sidious’ weakness was the best course of action. Though mostly embroiled in studying the nuances of the Force via meditation, Yoda had managed to gather some intel regarding the planet of Wayland; which was said to be a haven of Palpatine’s secrets. Any information on the tropical planet had been wiped many years previous, but the Grand Master had sensed that a great amount of Dark Force thread was surrounding that area of space. Further investigation had revealed the previously thought lost location of a planet that had once served as a field hospital during the Mandalorian Wars. 

It wasn’t the most concrete plan; they had no maps, and no solid knowledge of Wayland’s topography but they had run out of leverage. Palpatine knew they were all alive, and that they weren’t seeking to join him. If they couldn’t gain the upper hand, going into hiding was their only other viable option. Organa had supplied them with a Stealth Ship, the same vessel Anakin had used to bring down The Invincible during the Battle of Christophsis; but it would only benefit them in getting to the planet surface. After that, they were utterly on their own, relying solely on the direction of the Force. 

Obi-Wan had endured some terrible space flights, and their journey aboard the Stealth Ship was ridiculously tame. The vessel was sleek and streamlined, designed solely for infiltrating enemy territory without being detected. Their takeoff and touchdown went off without a single hitch, despite the fact that it was Anakin who was flying. _‘Tropical’_ didn’t even begin to cover the state of the greenery on Wayland; Obi-Wan was more inclined to think along the lines of _‘out of control’_ or _‘utterly smothered.’_ And Force it was _hot!_ It wasn’t like Tatooine, which was hot in a dry, _‘sitting-in-a-clay-pot-in-a-kiln’_ sort of way; this was _took-a-shower-and-the-shower-followed-me-but-I’m-not-wet’_ sort of hot. When this line of thought had crawled its way over to Anakin’s psyche he’d had to separate himself from the group for a few moments so he could giggle obnoxiously in private. Out of all of them, Yoda seemed the most comfortable in such a foreign climate; even so much as to gain just the slightest bit of spring in his aged step. 

They were relying heavily on the Grand Master’s ability to track Dark nuances of the Force in order to ascertain whether their location was correct. After some time, it was decided they would make their way towards a large mountain in the distance, and they made it about halfway before they all agreed it was time to rest and set up camp under the shadow of a bright purple tree that whistled an oddly relaxing three-note sequence at regular half-hour intervals. They took regular watches but Anakin managed to get himself in a tussle with about a dozen scruffy turquoise rodents the size of your average mouse. Despite being too small to have any reliably-functioning vocal chords, they spoke Standard with remarkable acuity; though they were incredibly loud and their diacritic involved a sharp tonal uptick at the end of every word. Obi-Wan wasn’t clear on what the issue was but apparently they were hungry and rations were just as good for negotiating peace treaties as they were for sustainable-if tasteless-food. Yoda spent the night deep in conversation with them and as a result nobody really got any sleep. 

Come morning, they brushed away all remnants of their camp and once again set off towards the mountain. The summit-upon closer inspection-was massive; its very presence a sore thumb against the mostly flat-surfaced greenery around them. Even closer observation revealed a massive amount of Dark-Side nuance, and Obi-Wan understood Yoda’s fixation upon it completely. He regarded-in a rare show of grim humor-that it would have been less obvious if Sidious had put a sign that said _‘possible Sith stronghold here’_ on the side of the mountain. The speculation that they may or may not have been doing the right thing rose once more in his mind, but they were running on limited options. 

It took them the better part of the day to reach the base of the mountain, and by nightfall any indication of a way upwards was shrouded in darkness. Once again, they were forced to distribute rations and try and find a comfortable place to sleep. Blessedly, the night was uneventful and quiet, providing them with any opportunity to rest uninterrupted. At some point during the night, Anakin crawled over to Obi-Wan and wrapped the two of them in his cloak. He woke to the younger man snoring softly in his ear, their hands intertwined and pressed tight against the older man’s body. In truth, the proclivity of their Bond was somewhat unsettling. Obi-Wan could often tell what Anakin was going to say or do…often minutes before it occurred, and it caused a kind of unconscious symbiosis between them. 

The result was that they acted like a single entity in two bodies…and in moments of morbidity Obi-Wan was prone to think of it as a kind of hive mind; simply without a dominant hub of command. That wasn’t to say that one of them couldn’t control the other if they tried hard enough; several times he’d caught himself tugging viciously on Anakin’s strands of psyche when he was about to do something foolish. It brought the younger man up short, but each time he did it he felt physically sick. Likewise, Anakin would occasionally try to mentally ‘sway’ him with guile and charm; but it only lasted as long as he did it unconsciously, and every time he realized what was happening his self-loathing was palatable. The reality of what could happen should one of them fall to the Dark Side was unspeakable. Neither of them knew how to sever or quiet the Bond, and Yoda had remained strangely silent on the subject. This-more than anything-was what terrified Obi-Wan, because it told him that they were treading into waters that even the Grand Master of the Jedi had no knowledge of. 

Come morning, they once again cleared their campsite and moved on, scaling the side of the mountain with a stealthy and observant eye. Near mid-afternoon, Obi-Wan stumbled over a mound of moss that-once flipped-proved to be the entrance to an air intake vent. From there, going was a little bit slower. Yoda went first, just in case the vent proved to be too small for the two men but still allowed for the tripedal Jedi Master to continue onwards. Fortunately, they were able to stick together, ducking their heads and crawling slowly in a conscious effort to be quiet. The vent took a sharp downward slope about one hundred feet in; coming to an abrupt halt at the face of a grate that they maneuvered open with the Force. Dropping down from it found them in a drab and dismal corridor lit by cold suspended luminary fixtures. The walls appeared to be your traditional grey durasteel; cold and unyielding with no decoration. Indeed, the entire facility-if that was indeed what it was-seemed to be oddly devoid of any kind of human life. Despite the lack of traffic there were indeed security measures and Anakin went ahead to disable them with the Force; freeze-framing the feeds until they passed beyond detection perimeters. 

At the end of the gallery were a series of stairwells, and Yoda directed them downwards without speaking; obviously concentrating deeply on the nuances of the Force. They passed several passageways, but the Grand Master seemed focused on maintaining their straightforward course, not pausing until they came to what was obviously an elevator. Here, they argued briefly, as Anakin was convinced that activation of any not previously used mechanics would trigger an alarm. Obi-Wan was inclined to agree but Yoda insisted that whatever they were looking for was directly below them. After the other two men had reluctantly given in, Anakin calibrated the commands and they stepped into an equally unadorned but obviously efficient elevator. It was only a few seconds to the bottom; the double doors swung silently outwards and they were greeted by the sight of what looked like a massive archive. 

The only thing even close to it was the Jedi Temple Archives, and even those paled next to the amount of information that had to be stored there. Rows upon rows of holocrons glittered ominously; protected by what looked like thousands of security measures. The Dark Side of the Force was so palpable you could practically breath it. If what made a man a Sith could be a living, breathing entity, it would be this. There must have been thousands of years of information accumulated in one place. In different circumstances, when the Republic still had hold of the galaxy, Yoda would have ordered to have the place seized in the interests of the Jedi. Now, they didn’t know how much time they had until they were discovered; and Obi-Wan knew better than to assume that Anakin’s manipulation of the security feeds would go unnoticed. Slowly, Yoda had stepped forward, his cane rising from the floor to place itself but inches away as he made to investigate the area. Then, Anakin had collapsed, and it felt like Obi-Wan’s brain caught fire. 

In hindsight, it really shouldn’t have surprised them to have encountered something like this. They were walking directly into a hornet’s nest with no knowledge of what they would encounter or how it would affect them. Anakin’s may have reconverted to the Light Side, but that didn’t change the fact that he had once defected. A part of the Dark Side still lingered in him; and when Obi-Wan had made the fatal mistake of indulging in his body; he’d damaged himself. In a sense he _was_ Anakin now, as much as the younger man was a part of him. Their minds were fused, all of their strengths and weaknesses combined….and now they were paying for it. The place must have been built over a Sith Shrine, and sensing a threat, the Force had risen up to take what was once a symbiotic part of it. And _Force_ was it tempting. Anakin hadn’t been lying when he had described the allure of the Dark Side. As much as the Light was an endless expanse of glittering stardust; its opposite was a yawning void filled with the whispers and promises of power, freedom, and lack of inhibition. 

It hurt because neither of them were giving in, and Obi-Wan guessed that was a good thing. Still, Anakin’s eyes were a deep, glorious fiery yellow; and he supposed that his must be the same. There was the assurance that they could love-no _fuck_ -without worry of who would judge them…that they could pursue every last inch of knowledge without wondering whether they were doing the right thing. They could own each other, keep each other alive _forever_ and never worry about being threatened or weakened by that which constrained the good and just. Anakin could be utterly his, he could own him completely. 

_‘Oh, and you could be mine, utterly mine-I would never leave you or keep you wanting….every whim you desire I would grant…my Obi-Wan…’_

And it was then that both of them seemed to come to a moment of clarity; as truth knifed its way through the darkness of desire and lust for power to lance across their joined psyches. They could own…they could revel…but they could never _love._ There would be no more acknowledgements of the little intricacies of their affection for each other, no murmured secrets in errant off-moments of peace. He could touch in lust…but he would never appreciate the small moments of utter adoration that came with loving the man writhing in pain next to him. And Obi-Wan felt the Light Side of the Force prevail in him…just as it did in Anakin. Threads of psyche merged and combined and the Dark recoiled; unable to withstand in the face of absolute truth. And if he had the breath to laugh in relief, he would have…because he was his _own_ and Anakin was free. And it was at that moment that he realized that Darth Sidious was standing behind them, triumphant and thinking that he had truly won. So when both men drew their lightsabers and turned in unison to cleave his head from his shoulders he never saw it coming. And then there was only the twin hum of their weapons, and the realization that they had won…despite all odds being against them.

____________________________________________________

It took them several hours to make their way out of Mount Tantiss.

When Darth Sidious had realized three powerful Jedi had infiltrated one of his most secret hideouts, he’d come to reclaim it in full force. This included several battalions of Storm Troopers and forty members of the Red Guard. Obi-Wan tried to feel guilty about the fact that they were forced to kill several individuals that were really only doing their jobs, but it was hard to when the realization that they had just killed the most tyrannical individual in the Galaxy was floating in the back of his mind. Anakin being…Anakin….was so cheerful Obi-Wan didn’t think he could be any happier if he were singing and swinging his lightsaber at the same time. Still, they both acknowledged that their victory had come at a terrible cost, but that the choices in regards to politics were now out of their hands. Yoda was-of course-his usual demure self; wielding his lightsaber only when absolutely necessary and ‘hmming’ occasionally should the moment apparently allow it. 

The journey back to the ship was much less arduous, though they still had to occasionally duck or run for cover if a large squadron of Troopers flew overhead. Observation proved the Imperial Guard to be in a state of utter panic, though without a radio or holoscreen the true effect Sidious’ death had on the Galaxy was unclear. They spent another night under the musical tree, though thankfully Anakin didn’t deign to get in any arguments with the local fauna. They reached the ship by midday, looking dirty, sweaty, and somewhat battered. Obi-Wan was desperately looking forward to taking a bath, though unfortunately the Stealth Ship didn’t provide for one. It wasn’t until they lowered the boarding ramp that Anakin made a strange noise and bent to ruffle through a scruffy-looking purple bush. Curious as to what could have caught his attention, Obi-Wan turned and folded his arms. After a minute or two, the younger man rose with something cupped between his palms, and without another word strode up the ramp and into the ship. Yoda chuckled quietly and gazed after him, a fond expression on his face. 

It wasn’t until they had taken off and were plotting a steady course back to Alderaan that Anakin dipped his fingers in his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a small ball of fluffy blue fur that was quivering slightly. Further inspection proved it to be one of the loud-spoken mouse like creatures he’d gotten into an argument with a few days previous. 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan admonished. “You can’t just take an animal out of its natural habitat because you want it! I thought I taught you that back when you were fourteen and tried to take a Snoring Igglepuff from the Outer Rim.” 

“It’s okay” the younger man reassured him, stroking a long finger over the creature’s snout. “His group was hunted down and eaten a few days ago…other packs don’t accept outsiders, and he was dying.” He looked pleadingly at Obi-Wan. “He just needs a family” he said quietly. “I promise I’ll look after him.”

Obi-Wan struggled with the side of him that demanded propriety, and the side that melted into a puddle of nothing when presented with his former apprentice’s begging blue eyes. Of course, he was talking to a man who had just beheaded a Sith…not that he hadn’t helped with that, but surely he deserved something in return. Not to mention that now that Darth Sidious was gone the matter of his trial would soon be at hand. 

“…What will you call it?” he finally asked, and Anakin grinned. 

“I thought I’d call him Qui-Gon” he replied, lifting the fuzzy creature up to eye level. “He’s a fouzemouze.” ‘Qui-Gon’-as he’d been so aptly dubbed-proceeded to bite Anakin’s nose, and Obi-Wan immediately decided he liked him much better than he’d originally thought. The fouzemouze scrambled out of the younger man’s reach to curl up on top of the consol and immediately fell asleep; emitting a high-pitched whistling noise. This left the two men sitting quietly together, gazing out at the starscape before them. “You know, I thought it was going to be a lot more dramatic than that” Anakin said thoughtfully, plucking at his grime-covered robe. 

Obi-Wan chuckled.

“Mmmm, you envisioned a long, drawn-out battle with one or all of us hovering on the brinks of death?”

“Kinda.” 

“Sometimes, the anticlimactic is the last thing you expect” the Jedi Master murmured. “But I for one am glad that none of us are worse for wear in the end.” He smiled wanly. “Anakin, I am truly proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you” was the calm response, and he found both his hands clasped in that which was both organic and metallic. “…You know what’s coming next of course.” Obi-Wan shivered and looked away, but a firm hand on his chin drew him back. Blue eyes were calm, serene and accepting as they looked tenderly into his. “Even if I don’t come out of this alive, I want you to know that I’ve never known a love as beautiful as yours.” He opened his mouth to retort but Anakin shook his head. “Obi-Wan, I want you to live…even if I don’t. My children need you, the Galaxy needs you.” He kissed him then…long, slow and deep. “I love you.”  
Drawing back, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and smiled weakly.

“You’ve grown from being a loud-mouthed bratty padawan to a father, a slayer of two Siths, and a Master Jedi” he whispered. “And more than that, you have always been my heart, Anakin Skywalker. And I will do everything, _everything_ in my power to make sure you are remembered as such.” 

Anakin’s eyes glowed, and he was struck again by how much he had to lose.

“That’s all that I can ask.”

And as a smooth, soft cheek pressed against his bearded one; Obi-Wan tried to brush away the tears that were forming in his eyes, but he knew that there was no way the younger man would miss them. Mayhap Fate was cruel…and maybe he would lose him…

But at least Anakin had found himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So...I imagine that most of you were thinking that I would have Darth Sidious' demise be much more dramatic than this, but I kind of felt like that had been done already, and my focus wasn't so much on his defeat, but on the mental struggles between Obi-Wan and Anakin, especially with their Bond being so powerful. The only thing I can say is that this felt right, and feels right, at the time, and I never intended to draw this out to any great extent. However! We are still not at the end! Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	17. The World Turned

Their return to Alderaan was bittersweet.

Senator Organa met them at the landing bay, his eyes glittering with one part respect and the other part resignation. The Queen was beside him, and in both arms she held Luke and Leia, whom Anakin rushed to greet with a joyful expression on his face. As the younger man fawned over his children, Bail drew Obi-Wan and Yoda aside. Glancing at the two of them, he appeared to steel himself before launching into the conversation.

“I can give him a week, at the most” he said quietly. “Once the Senate heard it was Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi who slew Palpatine, they started calling for a trial. They want one for you too” he added, glancing guiltily at Obi-Wan. “I think you’ll get off with a pardon, but I can’t guarantee anything for Anakin. There are people who had family in the Temple on the Senate…they’re out for blood.” He took a deep breath. “Our best chance is to veto his sentence and request he be judged under Order policy. That would leave his fate up to the two of you, but stars knows if there’s even a hairsbreadth of a chance that the Senate will agree to that. And this is all assuming that the Chancellor they appoint will be in favor of the Republic and its laws. Anything else and you’ll both be ordered to be executed for the assassination of the Emperor.” 

“And what about Master Yoda?” Obi-Wan pressed.

“For now, I’ve managed to keep any rumors of his survival out of political circles” Organa replied. “Palpatine told very few people of his continued existence, and most of those people are dead…we’re working to stabilize our hold in the Senate, but if we can’t gain an upper hand within the week, we’re not going to.” 

Anakin was the most accepting of the news out of all of them, including Yoda. The Jedi Grand Master felt it dishonest to remain anonymous, but at the same time recognized that there should be at least one Force-Sensitive individual who had a chance of surviving the political disaster that was to come. Word from any Jedi who had survived the Temple Massacre was next to none, and those that had managed to escape the carnage had no interest in facing off with a political arena that was in shambles. Several times, Obi-Wan thought of contacting Ahsoka, but Anakin was vehemently against it. She’d left the Order and made it clear she had no interest in the mechanisms of the Jedi, and the younger man saw no reason to force her to speak on his behalf. He firmly believed that the Force would decide his fate, and that no matter what was to come, he had faith that he’d be fully deserving of it. Having spent over a decade trying to convince Anakin to rely on the mechanisms of the Force more, Obi-Wan found he couldn’t really argue with his logic no matter how much he wanted to. They had done their duty and now it was time for the Senate to do theirs; whether it was what they wanted or not wasn’t up to them.

Almost immediately after they touched down on Alderaan, Yoda disappeared to see what he could do about locating other Jedi who had been scattered throughout the Galaxy. The Order had to be rebuilt and reestablished, especially if the Republic could get a viable hold in the political arena. This left Obi-Wan and Anakin to try and mentally prepare for what was to come. They briefly discussed coming up with a defense, but honesty was the only policy the Order supported, formulating complicated court mechanisms and hiring lawyers just wasn’t feasible. Anakin eventually set about getting his fouzemouze-Qui-Gon-settled in their shared chambers. Luke seemed to take great delight in watching the fuzzy blue creature climb the cabinets and chew on select nuts or fruits. Leia was less than impressed, preferring to sit with Obi-Wan and fuss with his beard ‘till he either put her down or she fell asleep. They spent a good amount of time with the twins, Anakin insisted on it. He had already declared Obi-Wan their guardian, despite his protests, and he was adamant that they get to know him as much as possible. 

When they weren’t with Luke and Leia, they were in the gardens or in their rooms. Obi-Wan had always imagined that if they got to this point, they’d have an endless array of things to discuss…reassurances and endearments to last them through their upcoming hardship. To his surprise, it was quite the opposite. He found himself content with sitting by the lake side-by-side, watching the clouds sift themselves into a myriad of shapes and sizes. Nearly every morning was spent lying in bed, skin against skin, breathing in the scent that clung to their pores ‘till each was sure they would never forget the essence of the other. If Anakin had a night where he didn’t come to bed due to staring at the twins in their respective cribs, it was brushed aside. Likewise, if Obi-Wan drank a little too much on one or two occasions and sat on the balcony hugging his former padawan’s cloak….it was understood. A week felt like a wrinkle in time…a space beyond the future that could last as long as they wished it. This-of course-wasn’t true…but when night fell like navy velvet across the palace and Anakin’s mouth was mapping stars on his fingertips…Obi-Wan told himself that it was so. 

“I feel like I could just…let go of myself.”

It was day four, a fact that Obi-Wan had stubbornly avoided for most of the day. They were stretched out in an alcove of the garden a considerable distance away from the main path. Underneath them was a sea of fine-bladed grass the color of Dagobah from a distance; a winsome emerald green edged with murky turquoise. It tickled Obi-Wan’s nose as he opened his eyes to look across at Anakin, who was staring at the stars. Around them were glass-paneled walls with torrents of water running down their translucent surfaces…obscuring them from the view of anyone walking by. The aqueous barrier enclosed them in a rippling square…flickers of light coming from the globebots just outside their area of focus. Above them… the stars were unusually bright; nebulas blinking in and out of existence as the planet rotated soundlessly below them. A discarded datapadd was off in the far corner, their lightsabers placed carefully beside it so that they were out of the way but not forgotten. Anakin had kicked off his boots and was wriggling his toes in the grass but Obi-Wan had opted to keep his on. 

“…Do you want to?”

The younger man blinked at his query and turned his head to face him, sky blue eyes making a study of his visage before he deigned to reply.  
“I…I feel like I don’t have a choice.”

“You don’t know that yet.”

“I know, but…shouldn’t I prepare?”

Obi-Wan sighed and propped his chin up on his elbow, closing his eyes as a warm breeze rushed over them…subtle and slightly sweet. He used his other hand to card through Anakin’s hair, watching as the young man murmured something unintelligible and moved closer so that they were pressed against each other. There was a moment of silence, both lost in the gravidity of the moment. Then, abruptly, Anakin ruined the mood.

“Y’know, if they do decide I’m better off in a biobox, I’m gonna haunt you ‘till you drop.” 

“Anakin, that’s not romantic _at all.”_

“What?! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like it. I’d make an awesome sidekick.”

“You already make an awesome sidekick” Obi-Wan snapped, somewhat impulsively. “I don’t want you to haunt me, I want you here, _alive_ , now-”

He broke off because he was starting to cry, and he made to sit up so he could bury his face in his sleeve and pretend he was going through this alone. Unfortunately, Anakin wasn’t having any of that, and he pulled the older man back down and kissed the dampness that had suddenly appeared on his cheeks, his lips following the tracks of his grief until he regained control of himself; closing his eyes and taking deep steadying breaths. Through the Bond he could sense the shivering tendrils of suffused affection, tying their souls together in an array of brilliant effervescent color. 

“…Do you regret us?”

Anakin’s voice was hesitant, wracked with guilt and slightly vulnerable.

“You know I don’t” Obi-Wan said roughly. “It’s just…new. Everything about it is new and we don’t have time to understand it.”

Truthfully, he didn’t know what to feel. There were times, especially late at night when the Bond would pull him from sleep, that he was utterly petrified. Despite the short amount of time they’d been mentally connected, their Signature was inherently strong. He’d grown used to having Anakin not only physically close, but mentally close, and the idea of reaching out into his consciousness and finding nothing but his own psyche left an ache in his chest that was more agonizing than he cared to admit. He-Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the most controlled and balanced Jedi on the Council-had grown attached. Yes, their mental connection may have helped them defeat Darth Sidious, and yes, the benefits of having someone so intrinsically close to him was pleasurable…but it also gave him further to fall should things go awry. And with the way the public was receiving the news that Anakin Skywalker was still alive and among them, it wasn’t looking promising. A part of him had always acknowledged that this was going to come eventually, but now that they were on the cusp of everything, he wanted nothing more than to deny the reality of the moment. It was a weakness-it certainly wasn’t tangent with the Code-but he couldn’t help it. When he wasn’t thinking romantically, he was reminiscing bitterly of the young boy he’d walked through years of training and discipline….who he’d held at night while he cried because he missed his mother. The boy he’d watched grow into a man of stature and strength, fighting by his side…steadfast and loyal even in the absolute worst of situations. What gave _anyone_ the right to pass judgment on someone they hardly knew? Politics be damned…they didn’t know Anakin…they didn’t know the heart beneath the titles or actions. They didn’t know the child that had demanded a nightlight next to his sleeping couch because he was afraid of the dark, or the pre-teen that had stolen his speeder so he could go out and buy his Master a birthday gift…they didn’t know the man who had fallen into terrible darkness only to rise once again, a father and a lover. 

“Stop.” Anakin’s breath was warm against his mouth; his lips parting reflexively as he accepted the kiss that was inevitably to come. The younger man had risen to hover over him as he thought, his gaze sweeping his face as he railed inwardly at the injustice of the world. The leather fabric of a sheathed mechno-hand brushed against his face and he returned the gesture in kind; memorizing the texture of skin against skin. “You have to stop thinking.”

Obi-Wan laughed, somewhat bitterly as Anakin began to suck gently at the slope of his neck.

“It’s hard to.”

His companion paused and he reflected-somewhat disappointedly-that a younger Anakin wouldn’t have stopped to consider what he’d said. Of course, a younger Anakin wouldn’t be lying half on top of him and stroking his beard either but that was neither here nor there. He’d grown more thoughtful, more considerate of others in a very short time. 

“I worry too you know” was the eventual reply. “…I always worried about you…even before.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan murmured, reaching up to catch a lock of golden hair dangling above his face. 

“Mmm” Anakin replied, letting his organic hand rest flat against the older man’s chest; rubbing in small circles. “…You always seemed lonely. Especially after Qui-Gon died.”

“He was my Master. I loved him…I worked hard to become his apprentice.”  
“Did you love him like you love me?”

Obi-Wan smiled and tugged gently at the strand of hair.

“No. I never even considered it.” He tilted his head and worried his lip slightly before asking a question he’d been wanting to for a long time. “Is it the same? With me…like it was with Padme?”

Anakin reflected for a moment, his eyes growing distant. Through their bond, Obi-Wan caught a flash of the Senator’s face, looking up and smiling…a hand touching his cheek…

“I loved Padme” Anakin said slowly, as if carefully gauging his words. “I’ll always love her, in a way. She’s the mother of my children, she lives on through them.” He lowered his head so it rested against the hollow beneath Obi-Wan’s ear. When he spoke again, it was against his skin. “We were different in more ways than we were alike…especially back then. I wanted to keep her, to possess her…and she wanted…she wanted to just sort of drift I guess. We were too young, probably. She was beautiful and I was-” he broke off and chuckled sheepishly.

“-Hopelessly good looking?” Obi-Wan suggested dryly.

“I didn’t say it, you did” was the good-natured reply, muffled slightly. “But yea, pretty much. Don’t get me wrong, every moment with her was like, standing in the light of the sun…especially in the moment. But it’s nothing like what we have.” He sighed. “It’s not really fair, to compare it. She was Force Sensitive, though I don’t think she knew it…but not like you or I. To try and say one was better than the other…”

“For what it’s worth, I’m not trying to replace her.”

“I know you’re not” was the gentle reply. “I’ve never looked at it that way.”

They were silent again for a little while, each reflecting on different things.

“I was lonely” Obi-Wan admitted after a time. “But I don’t think I knew it. I had my duty, I had to raise you and then I had to keep you in line, for whatever good it did me. I just never had the time to think about what I wanted…and if I did I told myself I already had it.”

Anakin ‘hmmed’ softly and lifted his head. 

“You’ve always been a constant” he murmured, mouthing along the edge of his jaw. “If I couldn’t take care of myself, you were there. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

The crickets on Alderaan had a great sense of atmosphere. Obi-Wan reflected on the fact somewhat fuzzily as their kisses became more heated. Anakin’s leg slid between his and his breath hitched, a soft errant sound that seemed to echo across the Bond. Touching came easily now, something that was a surprise to him, though he supposed it shouldn’t be. Soul Bonds encouraged intimacy on a level that those who were incapable of them couldn’t fathom. If he could compare it to anything, it was rather like exploring a map of topography that one knew instinctively, without having to look at it. The difference being that the terrain was skin and bone…not dust and dirt. Obi-Wan knew that if he slid his hand down Anakin’s chest, over his belly and down to the crook of his thigh it would make him arch in a way that bared his neck deliciously. Likewise, the younger man was aware that Obi-Wan’s fingertips were particularly receptive to the tip of a tongue and he enjoyed having his hair tugged lightly during a deep kiss. The knowledge didn’t come with experience. Rather, it came from a well of awareness that bubbled and overflowed within each of them when they were together. Trying ‘something new’ was simply ‘something different’…the knowledge was there, it was simply not applied. 

They disrobed each other separately, taking the time to touch betwixt tugs of fabric…the rustle of cloth leaving skin a gentle whisper that was tugged away by the rush of water around them. Their cloaks were laid down to create a barrier between grass and physicality, the rest of their garments gathered to the side as they fell into each other once again. Anakin’s hands brushed against his sides, fingertips leaving invisible sparks against flesh as they traveled up and down; barely touching but painfully present. Likewise, Obi-Wan let his own palms travel the expanse of skin before him; marveling as he always did at its smoothness and virility. It was during times like these, when he gazed at the youthfulness of Anakin’s body, that he wondered what the younger man could possibly see in him. He was older, scarred, often tired and cantankerous. There were times when he could be fussy and impossible…yet Anakin touched him with a reverence that left him breathless. Each soft glide of those long, lean fingers was like the string of an instrument plucked to fullness and left thrumming…a vibrating, single-note melody that went on into completion. His lips were warm, his tongue a dexterous marvel wherever it touched.

“Thinking too much” Anakin sighed, pressing against his chest so Obi-Wan was flat on his back.

“One of us has to” he muttered, arching slightly as his former padawan settled between his legs.

A hot, heavy mouth descended upon his and he lost his train of thought as they began a steady, pulsating stream of kisses whose rhythm eventually transferred to the rest of their bodies. Anakin’s hips undulated gently as he sucked on Obi-Wan’s lower lip…he couldn’t help the groan that left him…an exhalation of breath that he didn’t know he still possessed. His hands were pinned on either side of his head and he could feel soft tendrils of grass brushing across his knuckles as he flexed his fingers. Anakin’s need brushed against his; the drag of twin arousals occasionally conjoined…pre-come smearing across his stomach as his hips jerked involuntarily with stimulation. They could come like this…had done so a few times before, but he knew that this time it wasn’t what he wanted. Even as his body veritably vibrated with ecstasy, he forced himself to pull back; to gently grasp Anakin’s chin and catch his heated gaze. Through the Bond, he communicated his desire and the younger man seemed momentarily uncertain, hesitating only a few seconds before mentally assenting. It was a bit of a surprise when Anakin gently maneuvered himself into a hovering position, dipping his head so he could run his tongue down Obi-Wan’s torso, one hand following the trail his mouth had left behind. He spent a good amount of time at his hips; teeth nipping with just enough pressure to send jolts of pleasure down his spine before large hands gently palmed the underside of his thighs and spread his legs a little more. Obi-Wan began to understand when he felt a hot mouth at the base of his need, licking perfunctorily before moving lower; down the soft skin of his perineum ‘till a puff of breath gently circled his opening. 

“Anakin, wait-you don’t have to- _ohhh…”_

It was the single swipe of an adroit tongue; like the single flutter of a butterfly wing, but it left him gasping. Another and a rolling throb echoed in his core…surging upwards to the tips of his fingers only to curl against his tongue ‘till it burst against his taste buds in a flood of sweetness. Blue eyes watched him from the juncture between his legs; hot and heavy with arousal and it was that, more than anything that had him bunching his fingers in the cloaks spread around him, pushing back on the moist invasion that threatened to undo him before anything had even begun. Anakin savored Obi-Wan with a slow, gentle passion that he was gradually becoming familiar with; every suck, every inward twist a testament to his skill and patience. A single thumb pressed against him-kept him open while his gloved hand stroked his aching need with a feather-light touch…enough to keep him so hard it hurt but not close enough to bring him relief. It was only when Obi-Wan was shivering under a thin accumulation of perspiration that he withdrew and the pop of a cap could be heard. Again, a murmur through the Bond…a question as much as it was a supplication. He acceded in kind, accepting Anakin’s mouth again as a single finger slicked with lube rubbed gently against his entrance…pressing in only slightly before withdrawing to circle ‘round and coax again. 

Dimly, he was aware of the moans that occasionally fell from his lips. He had-once again-misjudged the younger man’s prowess, and he was fairly sure that he’d come far too quickly before all of this was over. The full invasion of a finger brought no discomfort; only a slightly gratified feeling of being partially filled; eager for more…and when Anakin added two digits and crooked them gently; the breathy groan that left his lips had him covering his mouth in absentminded self-consciousness. He could feel the ravenous appreciation suffusing his partner through the bond; saw how his prurient reactions brought forth only a kind of wondering astonishment. And it was with a sort of breathless disbelief that he realized Anakin thought him utterly _breathtaking_ like this…spread, debauched and practically begging to be taken and the only thing he could hear was _‘so…so..beautiful…you’re doing so well…oh, Master if you could only see yourself…’_ It wasn’t long before he was grasping Anakin’s hips and silently begging for a greater merging, throwing his need out in white-feathered bands across the Soul Bond ‘till they were both clumsily falling over each other in their heartfelt attempt to become one. Then, Anakin was lining himself up shakily and pushing home; that rubicund mouth falling open as he became accustomed to the heat surrounding his need. 

Obi-Wan took a few moments to breathe, to adjust to the fullness of another within him before urging the younger man to move. When he did, it felt as if the world had moved out from under them; spinning away into a vacant oblivion and there was only _here_ and _now_. Every smooth thrust sent muted sparks rolling up the base of his spine to pool in his groin…the needy, whimpering moans that came from his lips were mindless, irrelevant. He let his hands run down the smooth slope of the back undulating above him, his mouth falling open as Anakin hit that spot and arcs of light shuddered beneath his eyelids to fall into the Force like explosions of nebulae; a tapestry of intermittent color. Soon, he was gently pushing back into those passionate thrusts, working steadily towards ruin as the stars spun above them. He would never be as responsive and vocal as Anakin, expression didn’t come easily to him, but the knowledge that he was loved all the same left him shaking and completed. 

_“Good”_ was the ragged huff against his ear. _“So good…you feel amazing.”_

They kissed messily, a distracted exchange of lips and tongue as the Bond thrummed with their copulation; prismatic…nearly translucent and shot through with colors Obi-Wan hadn’t even known existed. His body tightened, relaxed, then tightened again and the slow, pulsating throb became a suffusive heat…pleasure extended its grip to catch him by the throat and he was cumming; long and hard, clenching reflexively as it seemed that his entire being was torn through orgasm. Anakin groaned in response and thrust deep, sinking his teeth into Obi-Wan’s shoulder as heat flooded his insides…concupiscent and perpetual. They remained for a while, hips rising and falling as the aftershocks of pleasure sent pulses of stuttering ecstasy through them; breath intermingling, stuttering and marvelous. Soon, the onset of exhaustion began to seep its way into his limbs, and Obi-Wan knew it was only a matter of time before they both fell asleep. Anakin’s hands rubbed his sides but his mental Signatures were languorous, contented and nearly somnolent. Obi-Wan shifted slightly and the younger man pulled out reflexively, a groan falling from his lips as he flopped to the side. A long, lean arm snaked over his belly to pull him in to a warm embrace and he sighed. 

“We should go back to our rooms” he muttered.

“Mmm, jus’ give me a momen..a moment..” was the garbled response. Lips gently traced the column of his spine and one of their cloaks was drawn over them. “Love you…love you so much. You’ve given me so much.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes were growing heavy, darkness gathering at the corners of his vision as his exhausted mind gently nudged him towards sleep.

“I love you too” he murmured. “More than you could possibly imagine.”

Their Soul Signatures combined as they drifted off into the confines of sleep, the stars spinning above them. Briefly, like the lightest flicker of light in a shadowed room, his mind considered the absolute impropriety of their situation…but he brushed it aside. Anakin was warm…his body a heavy, gentle weight pressing in to him. Maybe he’d regret sleeping here in the morning, but for now he didn’t care. Water trickled softly in the apex of his mind…and he descended into dreams…

…the world turned around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I just wanted to apologize for my lack of updates. I know it's been a rough wait but I've had a tough couple of weeks. You, my readers, are the reason I returned. Your reviews bolstered my confidence so much, and I should have read them sooner. You're all so incredibly lovely, I appreciate every single one of you, and your support. 
> 
> In this chapter, I really, really wanted Anakin and Obi-Wan to have some time together to solidify their love and plan for the future. It was incredibly important to me that they communicate what was on their minds in a way that was individually their own. I hope I didn't make this too sappy, but I really took my time writing this chapter, and I'm rather happy with it. As always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> **R &R**


	18. The Trial: Part One

Obi-Wan had never been particularly fond of the Galactic Courts.

Of course, he’d only been there a handful of times, and under less-than-pleasant circumstances...but the officiality of it all tended to make him grind his teeth. There were papers to sign and oaths to take...judges for the public to elect and an unbiased jury had to be chosen. There were things he disagreed with when it came to the Jedi Code, certainly...but one thing he could give it credit for was simplicity. _Do_ or _do not_ , _will_ or _won’t_ ; dichotomies of action and motive painted as blandly as possible, with no tricks of phrase or loopholes through which to find another means to an end. Politics were practically the polar opposite of what made a Jedi a Jedi. To be successful in the Courts you had to learn to lie...to find intricacies in Galaxy policy that the Senate had overlooked. Your superiors were only superiors as long as they were quicker, richer, and cleverer than you. Anakin had once compared those who embroiled themselves in politics to birds, shrieking and squawking at each other, but Obi-Wan was more inclined to think of them as snakes; whose only goal was to devour those who stood in the way of their path to riches and recognition. 

Though the decision had very nearly been split, Finis Valorum had taken it upon himself to volunteer to be ‘Chancellor pro tempore’...until a reasonable election could be held once the Republic had been fully restored. Despite his reputation for inaction, Obi-Wan had very nearly fallen over with relief when he had heard the news….as Valorum was known to be sympathetic to the Jedi cause. Once the news of his temporary assignation had reached Alderaan, Bail apologetically had both Obi-Wan and Anakin sent to Coruscant in a military detention ship; confined to high-security holding cells. Yoda had mysteriously disappeared several days previous, citing a mission of utmost importance. Once there, they were transferred to the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center to await trial. Those were strange days. He and Anakin conversed over the Bond...discussing errant, unrelated matters as the walls of their cells became more and more confining as time stretched on. Neither of them saw any other prisoners, as they were considered too great a threat to be let out of their pods to congregate with the public. Still, it was an unnerving experience, to reside in a place that they’d once brought enemies of the Galaxy. 

Obi-Wan’s trial was-for one overseen by the Supreme Court-unerringly swift. There were no accusations brought to the stand and what little had to do with Palpatine’s assassination was thrown off as the understandable dispatch of an utter lunatic. Most of the judges heralded him a hero to the Republic and thanked him profusely for his services before sending him on his way. Anakin’s Force Signature was a warm, thrumming embrace across his psyche as he stepped out into the lights of the city and realized he had no idea what to do with himself. Thankfully, Bail was efficient as ever, and soon appeared in an air taxi to escort him to a small but homely hotel not far from the Courts. There, they discussed the niceties of his former padawan’s upcoming trial.

“You can either choose to observe the trial as a non-participant or involve yourself as a defendant” Organa said calmly, though the look on his face suggested he was not expecting anything fruitful no matter what he chose. “The prosecution has a huge queue Obi-Wan...they have the holocron that shows Anakin killing younglings. The roster had ten Jedi relatives standing up to speak and that was fifteen minutes after it opened up this morning.”

A gentle caress indicated that Anakin was listening just as attentively through the Bond as he was...his Signature accepting and compliant. 

“I understand” Obi-Wan replied.

“There’s more” Bail said heavily. “Should you choose to speak up in Anakin’s defence, it may open up the possibility of you being brought to court again...on the grounds of harboring a dangerous criminal. The only way you could avoid it is by neglecting to mention your time on Tatooine and Bespin...but from my understanding those were key points in his rehabilitation.”

“My statement would mean next to nil without detailing his journey back to the Light” Obi-Wan agreed. 

_“I don’t want you to testify”_

Anakin’s voice was but a murmur in the back of his brain, especially now that they were a considerable distance from one another; but his direction was clear. 

_“Anakin...Senator Organa and I are the only people present to defend you”_ he replied firmly. _“This is a trial on a Galactic Scale...you are a traitor of the Republic.”_

_“And what could you possibly say that is going to change their minds? That you love me? That you know I won't fall again?”_

_“My opinion has to bear some merit…”_

_“...Maybe before.. maybe when the Order had a strong standing in the Republic. Not now. Don’t risk yourself like this...my children need you.”_

“I need you too, Anakin! This isn’t just about me and your children!!”

There was a gentle sigh across the bond...the ghost of a memory of mouth against mouth; the tender serenity of a kiss. 

_“I’ll always be yours, Obi-Wan….even if I’m not here…”_

Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s acceptance before he voiced it aloud, such was the nature of their connection, and the satisfaction that emanated from the young man did nothing to assuage his anxiety over the whole affair.

_“I'm sitting in court, Anakin. At the very least I'm exerting my presence.”_

_“...I can’t stop you.”_

Pulling himself away from their mental conversation, Obi-Wan caught Bail looking at him strangely.

“You’re talking to him, aren't you?” he said slowly. “In your head.”

“Something like that” the Jedi Master replied wearily. 

The Senator frowned. 

“...What happens if they decide on execution?”

“To our minds, you mean?” Obi-Wan queried, and Bail nodded. “I don’t really know, to be honest. I try not to think about it.” 

The conversation lagged at that point, and he excused himself to go and meditate. A week wore on before a summonings came from the Courts...requesting their presence at 0800 the next day to begin the trial. And so Obi-Wan found himself entering the elaborate and overly-decorated building once again, accompanied by Organa. It was really a waste of a lot of valuable material, he reflected; gazing at the yards of gold-embossed woodwork and velvet tapestry. Any decent-minded citizen who ventured into such a place wasn’t focused on the decor but the outcome of whatever was taking place that day. The courtrooms were entirely modern...devoid of anything but the latest technology and sparse durasteel seats for whoever was present. Polygraph machines traded convoluted data, gauging heart rates and infrared body temperature results at a lightning-fast pace. The twelve justices sat in a semi-circle in the center of the room; across from the witnesses’ stand and the containment pod. When he and Bail entered, they were the first to attend and chose seats nearest to it, in order to have a clearer view of the floor. Not long after a string of testimonials filed in, shooting them hateful and derisive looks. One of them, a youthful-looking Twi’lek, spat on the floor in their general direction. 

It wasn’t until everyone was assembled and seated that the eldest justice pressed a button to the right of his chair and a paneled door to the left slid back, revealing Anakin and two guards. His former padawan was dressed in his customary Jedi garb, but his hands were bound with Force Cuffs. There was a smattering of not-so-subtle hisses and the occasional curse, but the young man ignored them, his gaze immediately focusing on Obi-Wan who nodded professionally before looking away. At the same time the Bond-having grown stretched and needy after weeks of separation-flared hungrily; and the wave of recognition and supplication that arose threatened to undo him completely. He had to remind himself firmly that he could _not_ throw himself at a proclaimed enemy of the Republic, no matter how much more attractive he looked after weeks of distance. There was a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he watched as the youngest-looking justice stepped forward, looking unsettlingly bored. 

“The Court Will now commence with the trial of Anakin Skywalker, former Jedi Knight in affiliation with the Extinct Temple on Coruscant.” He motioned to the guards, who hastened to place Anakin in the holding pod. “Mr . Skywalker, you are accused of being the main initiate involving Order 666; in of which hundreds of Force-Sensitive adults and children were murdered under the Prime Directive. How do you plead?”

Anakin’s eyes had taken on a deep recumbent blue...reminiscent of his regret, as the justice spoke. 

“Guilty, your honor.”

Even as Obi-Wan felt a surge of pride, there was a ripple of incredulous surprise at his declaration, even the justice had the decency to look shocked. 

“In light of your admission of guilt, the court asks the defendant what he expects the outcome of this trial to be.”

“I expect nothing” was the calm response. “The Force will guide my Fate.”

For a few moments, the entire courtroom seemed to fumble, but its incredulous hesitation didn’t last long. The assembly of testimonials soon queued up to give their statements, and it was just as bad as Obi-Wan had expected it to be, if not worse. Mothers of fallen initiates sobbed at the stand, speaking of children they’d given up to the Order in the hopes that they would live a better life, only to have them meet the vengeful edge of Anakin’s blade. Family members heralded the dedication of their executed kin, the sacrifices they had made in war and the legacies they had left behind. Representatives of the Council raged over Anakin’s blatant disregard for an Order far older than the Senate itself...for his obvious lust for destruction and chaos. It was an utter bloodbath in regards to Anakin’s chances of being pardoned. By the time they were halfway done, nearly every justice looked on him with expressions of revulsion and dislike. Only a single justice...the oldest of the group, continued to give Anakin the occasional considering glance. Obi-Wan was very close to being physically sick, and it was with admiration that he observed Anakin’s psyche as perfectly calm. Two hours later, the youngest justice stood once again and turned to face them.

“It has come to our understanding that the defence has opted not to speak” he said in the same bored tone.

Bail stood in one swift, professional movement and bowed perfunctorily.

“That is correct.” 

“....Is there any particular reason for this?”

This time, it was the eldest justice who had spoken, his aged but powerful voice carrying across the enclosed room.

The Senator glanced at Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“...The accused has admitted his guilt in the presence of the court” Organa said dryly. “I think it’s a rather open and shut case.”

“I think you might be surprised at what a statement can do” was the patient response. The youngest justice was looking at the older man as if he’d thoroughly lost his mind. “Don’t look at me like that...Heilios...we are the Supreme Court of _Justice_ not _Condemnation._

Bail hesitated.

“...If there is anyone that has the right to speak on behalf of Mr.Skywalker, it is his former Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

‘Heilios, as he’d been so aptly named, looked like he’d rather rip out his teeth than ask Obi-Wan to speak, but acquiesced nevertheless.

“Master Jedi, will you speak in defence of your former apprentice?”

Anakin’s desperate plea for his silence was an echoing supplication in his mind, but he ignored it. The Court had invited him to speak, and he would not be so foolish as to turn down such an opportunity twice. A wave of muttering suffused the room as he stepped out onto the dais to face the justices, but he brushed it aside. Taking a deep breath, he let his eyes briefly sweep over the gathering of faces in front of him before allowing himself to speak.

“...I’ve known Anakin longer than any of you” he said quietly. “I’ve watched him grow from a boy to a man...fought countless battles at his side.” He shook his head. “I could tell you of the months upon months we’ve spent rehabilitating him, but I doubt it would matter very much to you. You don’t understand the Force, and you don’t care about what he’s going to lose, or what he’s done to rectify his actions....there is only the truth of what has come to pass.” 

“And how do we know that Knight Skywalker won’t relapse again?” one of the justices demanded. “How do we have any faith in an Order who lets a mass-murderer return to the fold with no consequences whatsoever?”

“You don’t” Obi-Wan said, somewhat impatiently. “But I assure you that he has faced the consequences of his actions.”  
“With what?!” was the derisive response. “He’s not been imprisoned or publicly humiliated. From what I understand, he’s gotten two children out of this whole affair, how is that punishment?”

“A Force Sensitive person who returns from the Dark Side feels their guilt as a physical mutation in their psyche” the Jedi Master replied wearily. “It’s like a scar that never fades...Anakin will never forget what he has done wrong...the Force won’t allow it. A true Jedi does not view imprisonment as a punishment in any case, as spatial confines do not limit the reach of any initiate older than the age of fourteen. Luke and Leia are beautiful children, to be sure, but in case you have forgotten, their mother _died._ As for public humiliation, I was under the impression that we are living in a society whose petty limitations have risen above those of mass bullying.”

“Senator Amidala was murdered by Mr. Skywalker as well” was the cool response. “And if imprisonment is not a sufficient punishment, then we shall consider execution-” 

“-Enough.” The eldest justice had risen, the look on his face impatient and somewhat world-weary. “If we cannot hear the statement of a defendant without diverting to petty nit-picking and suggestivity then we shall move on to the sentencing.” He gestured for Obi-Wan to return to his seat, and he hastened to obey. “Does the defence have any more testimonies they would like to bring forward at this time?” There was a pause as he glanced at Bail, who grimaced but shook his head. “Very well-”

There was an ear-splitting crash as the steel doors to the courtroom were thrown inwards. Obi-Wan jumped and reflexively reached for his lightsaber, sweeping his cloak to the side only to freeze in astonishment as a familiar ***tap*** began to makes its rhythmic way down the slope of the room to the dias ahead. If he’d thought the murmuring was intense when Anakin entered, it was five times worse now. A familiar _“hmmm”_ reached his auditorial periphery as Master Yoda swept forward to face the justices, who were looking-appropriately-flabbergasted. 

“Speak on behalf of Master Skywalker, I will” the old Grand Master said pleasantly. 

It took several minutes longer for the court to recover this time. There was a multitude of protest from the testimonials, who were outraged that a revered member of the Council had the gall to only show himself _now_ rather than in the weeks beforehand. The only calm member of the panel was the eldest judge, who was sitting and looking down at Yoda with an amused and rather fond expression. Raising an idle hand, Obi-Wan had to admit he was impressed as total silence fell across the room like clockwork. 

“It is good to see you, Master Yoda” he said calmly. “Please, continue.” 

 

“Guilty of his crimes, Young Skywalker is” the elder Jedi said gravely. “However, consequences there will be if decide to execute him, you do.”

“Are your threatening the Supreme Court?” was the good-humored query. 

“Cautioning, I am” Yoda replied. “Young Skywalker’s mind is not only his mind, but the mind of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Suddenly, with terrible clarity, Obi-Wan understood why the diminutive Jedi Master had left several weeks hence. He’d been in Coruscant all along, looking through the Jedi Holocrons for answers about their Bond.

“That is none of our concern” another justice snapped. “Masters and padawans formed mental links all the time. If one died, the other recovered, eventually.”

“Not so with this, I fear” Yoda said, his ears drooping. “A mental link, their connection is not….surpassed such emotional boundaries, they have. To choose to kill one and spare the other, you cannot….

….If you execute Young Skywalker, Obi-Wan will die as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I am very late with this chapter, and it is shamelessly short...but I do have a good reason this time. My son has hfmd...and it's been a tough series of days...especially for him. I also have an October series starting up on deviant art, one that includes a series of features from other artists as well as weekly illustrated short stories from me... along with Unconscious Design and this work I am practically drowning in my to-do list. Add that to the fact that my three year old is now sick and home from school. Well...I am pretty screwed lol.


	19. The Trial: Part Two

To expect the trial to go easily was a fool’s dream.

Yoda’s declaration didn't negate Anakin’s actions, and Obi-Wan doubted his mortality was worth setting free a mass-murderer. Still, to hear the old Grand Master declare his inevitable Fate-should Anakin face capital punishment-was sobering. He'd suspected that might be the case, yes. As his mental cohabitant, he’d guessed that Anakin’s death would at the very least cause him to lose much of his sanity. It was the equivalent of shredding someone's brain really, simply in psychological terms rather than physical terms. A cell was no better than a lethal injection. Anakin couldn’t take confinement. He'd been a slave for nearly a decade, and then drug into a society whose rules and dogma strangled his vivacious personality ‘till he'd very literally lost his mind and killed his wife...along with many others. Obi-Wan hated to think what he'd do confined to a four-by-four foot cell...collared and cuffed with Force-resistant wards. He didn’t even know if once he _was_ confined to Solitary that their Bond wouldn't be cut off by technological security interference and they’d just drop dead on the spot. 

Sensing his inner turmoil, Anakin’s Signature rippled soothingly...pressing into his consciousness and falling on Obi-Wan’s unsettled psyche like soft drops of cool, clear rain. Steadying himself, Obi-Wan glanced over to the line of Justices to see that they were still heavily embroiled. Inwardly grimacing, he ventured a quick look at Yoda; who was standing with his hands folded over his staff and wiggling his ears. The court room had exploded into utter pandemonium at the elder Jedi’s declaration. Some of the representatives had to be physically dragged out of the room after lunging out of their seats in attempts to get to the Pod. Most of the Justices had spent the better part of an hour trying to shout over the commotion and each other. The only quiet one was the elderly justice who had urged Obi-Wan to speak on Anakin’s behalf. His eyes flickered between the former Master-Padawan team with grave concern. 

“Ask about the nature of your Bond, they soon will” Yoda whispered to Obi-Wan. “Dishonest, the Jedi are not… _tactful_ you must be.” When he looked confused the elder Jedi sighed. “Called ‘The Negotiator’ for a reason, you were. With not too much, or too little you must answer.”

Acknowledgement dawned upon Obi-Wan, but as he opened his mouth to speak a harsh buzzer sound caused him to look back at the Justices table. One of the younger members-a man who had not spoken before-stood with a sly expression and Obi-Wan’s guard was immediately up. 

“If you would return to the stage, Master Kenobi” he said graciously, though his eyes indicated that he really didn't have a choice.

Steeling himself, the Jedi Master obeyed wordlessly and turned to face the table once more, an eyebrow raised. 

“We are curious...Master Kenobi” the Justice continued, stepping down from the podium to sweep in circles about him. “This Bond...how did it come to be? I was under the impression that Padawan-Master Bonds were ended once Knighthood was granted. You appear to be a Jedi of tradition and fortitude...so I must assume this Bond is entirely unrelated.”

Gritting his teeth against such an obvious display of attempted intimidation, Obi-Wan forced himself to remain looking straight ahead as he cleared his throat.

“...You flatter me most desperately, your honor” he said mildly, and he did not miss the smile the eldest Justice hid behind his hand. “However, you forget that _my_ Master was Qui-Gon Jinn, and he was far from your typical orthodox Jedi. Surely you can't expect me to have spent so much time under his tutelage and not have adopted some of his...unpredictability.”

There was a pause as the Justice stopped, having obviously expected him to insist that he was the perfect picture of Temple dogma. Still, he recovered quickly and began his ridiculous circling once more.

“You and your Master never severed your Padawan Bond?”

“If you remember the events during the Separatist invasion of Naboo, you will know that we were kept thoroughly busy during that time. I did not officially become a Knight until after my Master was slain, and I in turn slew Darth Maul.”

“Pray tell, what kept you and Mr. Skywalker from severing your Bond?”

Obi-Wan did turn this time to shoot the man a withering glance.

“In case you’ve lost your memory, I feel obligated to remind you that the Clone Wars were in full swing. We had neither time nor opportunity.”

He could practically feel the Justice’s frustration at his failure to entrap him, but kept from showing it on his face. Anakin was fair to giggling in his mind and he sent a gentle shove through their mental link, coaxing him to settle so he could concentrate. The footsteps around him sped up marginally and he waited for the next verbal ‘attack.’

“If you will, explain this Bond, tell us how it came to be.”

This time, Obi-Wan weighed his words carefully.

“You must understand that it was not intentional. I spent months rehabilitating Anakin mentally, and our Signatures began to convalesce. I spent many a night housed in his psyche, driving away attacks from the Dark Side of the Force. We meditated in unison, as there is a great danger of meditating alone when you have previously Fallen. The final, cementing Bond happened late at night, while we were on Coruscant trying to apprehend Darth Sidious. Neither of us knew it had happened until the next day.” He smiled graciously. “It was-if I may be so childish as to say-a complete accident.”

“I find it hard to believe that a Jedi Master and member of the High Council should do such a grave thing by 'accident'. It must have happened in a moment of great...distraction.”

And there was the danger of it. 

The Senate was-no doubt-at least minimally informed on the niceties of Force-Sensitive individuals. They knew that Jedi were forbidden from attachments, and a “Bond” sounded very intimate. If they could, they would speculate that Anakin had seduced Obi-Wan and brought him over to the Dark Side, thus making him equally dangerous. Better to dispatch of two Siths at once than leave one alive to deal with later. Losing Obi-Wan would be an act of Galactic preservation, not murder in cold blood. 

 

“There is no Jedi who claims perfection” he murmured. “To do so would go against our vows. We were, indeed, quite distracted on Coruscant. Palpatine hacked into our transmission and made direct verbal contact before we were ready. We were forced to act on whim….and we made mistakes...it very nearly cost us our lives.” 

The pacing ceased and Obi-Wan blinked as the Senator questioning him turned to face him directly, his expression poorly masked the contempt and dislike on his face. It was obvious he was fighting desperately to keep his composure.

“And you condone Mr. Skywalker’s actions?” he pressed. “You believe that he is-because of this so called _’rehabilitation’_ -suddenly worthy of walking free?”

Obi-Wan sighed impatiently.

“I have not said that, and you do yourself no justice by insinuating that I have.”

At this, the man through all pretense of politeness to the wind, his visage contorting into a sneer, he whirled and drew himself up to full height to address his fellows.

“It is obvious that this man is delusional” he said venomously. “He has polluted the mind of Grand Master Yoda into believing fanciful lies concerning mortality, and he sheltered a sociopath for months before being found purely by chance-”

“-That’s enough, Thrain.” It was the eldest Justice speaking again, having stood from his chair in order to exert his authority. He gestured firmly for the young man to return to his seat. He then turned and gestured to someone Obi-Wan immediately recognized as a Nagai. “Aaya, if you would.” 

The Jedi Master felt a shiver run down his spine as the tall, pale-skinned being looked at him considerately. Nagai were naturally telepathic, though they chose not to use their skills unless circumstances were dire. Instead of rising from his seat, the Justice remained sitting...almost motionless except for the occasional blink of an eye. When he did speak, his voice was utterly toneless, devoid of all emotion. 

“Let us return to the question Thrain brought to the table. Do you believe Mr. Skywalker to be absolved of his crimes?”

“No” Obi-Wan said shortly. “Anakin has done a grievous wrong...one that will leave him permanently damaged. However, I do believe that he regrets what he has done….and did everything in his power to stop the chain of events his actions construed.” He tucked his arms into his robe. “I can see every facet of his mind, and I can say without hesitation or doubt that he has repented, utterly.”

There was a collective hiss from the audience, but one glance from Aaya was enough to silence them.

“Do you think he should be set free?”

Obi-Wan smirked. 

“You ask a difficult question, your honor. My mind acknowledges the gravity of my former padawan’s actions. At the same time...it’s like asking a parent if they believe that their child deserves death. I raised Anakin, I taught him.” He stroked his beard for a moment. “I trust in the Force to determine the best course of action. For everyone. I do not claim that I am worthy to judge.” 

There was silence after that, and Obi-Wan flinched but allowed it when the Justice pushed past his shields to search his mind. Surprisingly, he remained only in the emotional center of his psyche, choosing not to search for facts….merely verity. It was a strange experience. At once, he could feel Anakin’s presence, floating with an ever-vigilant watchfulness in the channel of their Bond. Aaya’s observance was but a numb sort of mist in his amygdala and hippocampus, there one moment and gone the next. Still, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief when he withdrew. 

“He speaks truly” was the flat statement. “Or, at the very least, he believes he does.” 

“Thank you, Aaya” the eldest Justice murmured. “Please, Obi-Wan. Return to your seat while we deliberate.” 

He hastened to do so, glad to be off the floor and free from questioning. Sitting down, he glanced at Yoda, who gave him a small smile of approval. This time, a large, transparent bubble floated down from the ceiling to surround the Justice’s table...cutting off all means of hearing their conversation. Shields of a similar nature descended to enclose Anakin’s pod, and separate the two sides of the courtroom. 

_“You could take a nap”_ Anakin suggested idly. _“This is probably gonna take a while.”_

 _“I’m not napping in the middle of the Supreme Court”_ Obi-Wan grumbled. _“Does your pod have a latch option?”_

 _“Mmm...yeah. But I’m keeping it open. If some lunatic decides to put a blaster beam in my head, a half-inch of synthetic carbonate isn’t going to stop it. I like watching what’s going on anyway.”_ A flicker of amusement bubbled across the Bond. _“You did pretty good with that Thrain guy. I thought he was going to explode.”_

 _“They assumed I would cave under intimidation”_ Obi-Wan said dryly. _“Nearly every court keeps someone like Thrain around for safekeeping. It was a petty move.”_

_“Remember when I tried to scare you when you were taking a bath?”_

Obi-Wan smirked.

_“Oh yes. You were twelve and quite fond of pranks at the time. If I remember correctly, you threw a bar of soap out the window.”_

_“Yeah, cause you levitated it over to the door so I would slip on it when I came in.”_

_“Tsk. You still think I’m so vindictive don’t you? How many times must I tell you that it slipped from my hands? It was a mere coincidence that you happened to be coming in the door.”_

_“Sure Obi-Wan...next you’ll tell me that banthas sprout wings and fly.”_

_“That’s nothing compared to when you gave a toupee to Master Windu.”_

Anakin’s Signature rippled with mild indignation.

_“I **told** you! Jax gave that to me on his birthday and told me to give it to him. I didn’t have any money and he said I could tell him I’d bought it for him. It was wrapped, so I couldn’t see what was in it!”_

He couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped his lips, earning him an odd look from Bail. He shook his head apologetically and returned his concentration to the Justices’ table. It was several hours before anything even indicated that they had reached some sort of conclusion. A few of the Justices had gotten up to yell soundlessly for several minutes before being chastised and told to sit down. Obi-Wan reflected that he was desperately glad he’d never took an interest in politics. After some time, the sound shields were retracted throughout the room, and for the first time the eldest Justice stood and made his way to the floor. 

“The court requests that all the prosecutors and their representatives leave the room. We are sincerely grateful for your insight, but this is no longer a public matter.”

Immediately, there was an uproar. Once again, it was necessary that people be forcibly removed from the courtroom. Anakin’s foresight once again proved impeccable, as a young woman pulled out a blaster and aimed it at his Pod. Fortunately, she was subdued before Obi-Wan felt the need to intervene. When the courtroom was silent once again, the orders were given to run a scan for any bugs that might have been left behind. Four were found and disposed of and any and all recording methods were shut down and covered. Once everything was in order, the elderly Justice began to address them once more. 

“I have served in my seat for fifty years” he continued solemnly. “All of us have dealt sentences to corrupt politicians and covert Galactic operations. We all bore witness to the terrible mistrial of Ahsoka Tano. Still, in all my life I have never been made to make such a controversial decision in the face of so much brutality, and I know my fellow Justices can say the same...the majority of us in any case. We do not believe in murder” he continued, addressing Anakin directly this time. “Master Kenobi has not wronged the Republic and Aaya never lies when it comes to honesty of the soul. We cannot, in good faith, send him to his death because of your crimes. The public may see your former Master as a small sacrifice to pay, but injustice does not fix injustice. Likewise, we cannot imprison you, as the number of guards that would like to see you dead is far too many...and we will not waste resources that could be spent on other matters on the safety of a serial killer; redemption or not.” He paused for a moment, as if giving Anakin a chance to speak, but the young man simply nodded his head. “You are to remain planetside...henceforth...until the end of your days. It is my understanding that Master Yoda intends to rebuild the Temple, and you shall aid him in doing so. You will never leave Coruscant, and you will never have custody of your children. You will wear a tracking chip under your skin at all times….should you fail to adhere to the geographical parameters of your sentence, it will inject Synox into your veins. Any other restrictions and limitations are up to Grand Master Yoda. Do you accept the terms of your sentence?”

He looked expectantly at Anakin, who had gone very pale at the mention of his children, but recovered quickly enough. Swallowing, he nodded jerkily. 

“I accept.” 

“From here henceforth...you are a non-existent man. You have no identity in the Republic, and no rights. As far as the public is concerned, you have been transported to Stars’ End and left to rot. If you are spotted by authorities outside of the Temple, they are well within their rights to kill you...and it will be dismissed because you do not exist.” The elder Senate member turned to address the rest of the court. “Not a word of this leaves this courtroom. Anyone, including members of the Supreme Court, found to have discussed this to an individual or individuals that were not involved can be assured that the consequences will be dire.” Turning back to Anakin, he raised a brow. “Do you have any questions?”

It seemed as if Anakin was about to deny it, but paused, then opened his mouth to speak.

“If it’s not too much to ask, your honor...what is your name?” 

“My name is Carlanc Westronn, Head of Justice.” 

Anakin smiled...a little sadly, Obi-Wan reflected.

“Thank you, Carlanc.”

“It was not a favor to you, but for your Master, and for the Jedi overall” was the firm reply before Carlanc turned away. “This brings the trial of the one formerly known as Anakin Skywalker, son of Shmi Skywalker Lars to an end, the prosecution rests.”

“...case dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** This is a chapter where I can honestly say I was proud of how a character handled a challenge. I know some of you are upset that Anakin didn't get custody of his children...but I had to be realistic. In terms of politics, Anakin's Fate was never going to be stars and roses. There's more regarding Luke and Leia, but it's in the next chapter ;)


	20. Under The Four Moons

Obi-Wan watched with hooded eyes as Anakin took the seat in the Council chamber to the left of Master Yoda. He could feel the accusing stares of the rest of those gathered...like daggers burning their way into his skin. It left him with a feeling of unease, but not guilt. He did not regret having faith in Anakin. It was something he could never - would never - apologize for. Right now, it was paramount that this meeting went off without a hitch; that the conversation that was to come would cement the agenda of the Order for as long as possible. There was no time for reasoning or questioning of purpose, they had a monstrous task to undergo, and it could not afford to be put aside in order to deal with squabbling and resentment. Master Luminara, Master Uvell, and Jedi Knights Khandra, Mususiel, Zubain Ankonori, Nuhj, and the newly Knighted Caleb Dunh were all present. Luminara and Uvell were focused on Yoda, their attention to the problem at hand absolute. The others however, could have been shouting their hatred of Anakin across the room and it would have been less obvious.

It had taken him two months to find all of them, and then convince them that all was well and that they were needed to reestablish the Order. Khandra and her comrades had been hiding in a Jedi Shrine and were reluctant to leave. Others, like Luminara, were in such despair that they saw no point in continuing what they thought would be a wasted effort. Still, with no small effort on his part, Obi-Wan had managed to convince them to return. The next month had been focused on rebuilding the ruined creche and erecting memorials for the Younglings who had died. Anakin oversaw the project...often staying long into the night when the others had gone to bed. A few weeks after its completion, Master Uvell brought two infants with significant Signatures into the Temple and Luminara was quick to offer to care for them, along with Khandra. The rest of the Temple was surprisingly intact. Palpatine had made sure to reconstruct it, with the intention of using it as his own personal palace. Obi-Wan was quick to investigate his reasoning, and was horrified to find that the entire building had been constructed over a Sith Shrine. It took them several more weeks to destroy it, and all traces of the Dark Side of the Force that came with it. 

Now, they were faced with what to do with their new found recovery. Obi-Wan chanced a glance at Anakin, who was looking calm and serene. He'd dealt with confinement to the Temple well, though his children often weighed heavily on his mind. He spent much of his time in the Archives, taking an interest in things that had not caught his fancy as a reckless padawan. During Obi-Wan’s time away, their Bond veritably ached with need for closeness. They spoke mentally at great length, but it wasn’t the same as being physically together. When he’d returned they’d spent the better part of two days in bed, rediscovering the scent and texture of their other half. Despite the fact that he'd been spared, Anakin had still lost a great deal. It was during quiet moments that Obi-Wan would see it...when they lay together in bed after a long day, or when he was briefly restful during daylight hours. There was a depth to his gaze that bespoke of knowledge no one his age should be privy to; and tiny, hair-thin lines at the corners of his eyes. Anakin’s Force Signature was just as blinding as it had always been, but it wasn’t a mess of raw power anymore. Instead of the blazing ferocity of a supernova; he eluded an essence that was controlled and channeled. 

“Gathered we are, to discuss the future of the Jedi” Yoda said calmly. “Much grief the Order has seen in a very short time...much loss and much sorrow. Blinded by the Dark, we all were….and a great price we have paid.” He gestured firmly. “Laid out new boundaries for the Code, Master Obi-Wan has. Tell them to you, he will.”

Taking a deep breath, the Jedi Master stood and walked to the center of the room. The four Jedi he had practically had to drag back from the Shrine would barely look at him and Caleb wasn’t much better. Only Luminara and Uvell gave him their usual impassive expressions, their emotions heavily guarded. 

“We all know, of course, the Jedi Code” he said calmly. _“There is no Emotion, There is Peace...there is no Ignorance, there is Knowledge...there is no Passion, there is Serenity….there is no Chaos, there is Harmony...there is no Death, there is the Force._ ” He folded his arms and smiled as he felt Anakin gently nudge him to continue. “Some of you may remember an older version of the Code...one that we often taught Younglings and then proceeded to restrict as they got older. We seek now to split the Code into two definitions...one of which a Knight may choose once they pass the Trials. Master Skywalker will detail the specifics of this.”

Anakin stood as he spoke and moved to join him. 

“The Code of the Creche is similar...but not synonymous to that of a Jedi Knight” the younger man commented, his eyes sweeping the room. “ _Emotion, yet Peace...Ignorance, yet Knowledge...Passion, yet Serenity…Chaos, yet Harmony…Death, yet the Force._ We teach it to younglings because they cannot suppress their emotions in favor of logic. Instead, we strive for them to achieve balance. Our goal in this Council, if we can come together in a unanimous decision, is to allow newly Knighted Jedi to choose which derivative of the Code they wish to follow.”

“That’s blasphemy!” Khandra spat. “The Jedi have followed the same concrete definition of the Code for hundreds of years.” 

“And yet, that Code has proven to be impossible to follow on more than one occasion” Obi-Wan said calmly.

“Why should the Order change for the sake of a few individuals that have failed to adhere to our standards?” Luminara asked calmly. 

“What we’re proposing isn’t the integration of emotionalized Knights” Anakin replied, turning to her. “Rather, we are recognizing that psychic turbulence is a variant that we cannot always account for...no matter how thoroughly we screen our Younglings.” He took a deep breath. “I remember as a padawan that my emotions brought reprimand, and from reprimand....shame. Most Jedi are able to send their misgivings out into the Force, but I wasn’t…” he glanced at Obi-Wan. “...At least not until recently, and only through extraordinary circumstances. Those who would choose the Code of the Creche would not have the ability to engage in combat or deal in politics...though they would be allowed to defend the Temple should the need arise. These Knights would act as counselors and comforters, perhaps even mind healers. While the Common Code Jedi take on the challenges the exterior has to offer, those following the Code of the Creche would deal with emotional aspects.” Anakin paused, suddenly nervous, and Obi-Wan sent a gentle push through their Bond in order to encourage him to continue. “Furthermore, these Jedi would also be allowed to seek out romantic relationships.” Master Uvell opened his mouth as if to speak, but Obi-Wan shot him him a sharp look and shook his head. “Just as there are downsides to following the Traditional Code, there are downsides to the Creche Code. A Knight who chooses emotionalism would have no say in War Councils or political concerns. They also cannot take a padawan or train in any lightsaber form but Soresu. There will be seats available in the High Council for mederia Jedi, but their position would be that of monitoring the emotional states of padawans, younglings, and Knights who have suffered shell-shock.”

“And you agree with this?” Luminara asked, looking at Master Yoda.

“A good alternative this is, I believe” was the elder Jedi’s calm response. “Fair for those who still wish to serve the Order but cannot repress their emotions, it is.” 

“Jedi couples who bear children will also have the opportunity to give their Force-Sensitive children over to the Order” Obi-Wan supplied. 

“I don’t get why this is happening now” Caleb said miserably. “Why couldn't this have happened before...before all of this…?!”

Yoda’s ears drooped.

“Times there are, when a great tragedy is needed to see that we are wrong” he said gruffly. 

At this, Khandra leapt out of her seat, her eyes blazing. 

“And you just intend to let this-” she gestured at Anakin furiously. “ _-Abomination_ run about with no care to how he will affect our way of life?!!”

“Master Skywalker has been confined to the Temple. He will be overseeing the mechanisms of this new ch-”

_”HE DOESN'T DESERVE TO BE CALLED A MASTER!!”_ was the enraged shriek. _”HE KILLED OUR BROTHERS, OUR MASTERS!! HE DESECRATED THIS TEMPLE-”_

“-Knight Khandra, we have all suffered losses in this war” Master Uvell said sharply. “Master Skywalker paid for his misdeeds with the death of his wife and estrangement from his children. He has killed two Siths, one of which very nearly converted him to the dark side and he and Master Kenobi have been our Generals far longer than you have been a Knight. Master Yoda trusts him, and therefore I do. If that is not enough for you then perhaps this Temple is not the place for you to be.”

There was silence for for a long stretch, and Obi-Wan very nearly feared that Khandra would leave. The room issued a collective sigh as she sat back down, her face still red with anger but her expression resolute.

“You said that Master Skywalker would oversee the formation of this new branch of the Order” Luminara commented, looking at Obi-Wan. “Am I to understand that he will not be engaging in combat?”

“Not unless combat comes knocking at the Temple gates” Anakin said wryly. “I've had my share of violence and death….enough to last me the rest of this lifetime and more.” 

“And you Master Kenobi” the female Jedi pressed. “Will you be taking on a padawan in the near future?”

“I will not” Obi-Wan said serenely. “And I will also be retiring from combat.” 

“You will head the cumulation of the new branch as well?” was the surprised query.

Obi-Wan caught Anakin’s eye and smiled tenderly.

“Yes, I will” he replied. “Master Skywalker is my lover, you see.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips at their surprised expressions. “Oh, come now, surely you didn’t think our Signature was a result of meditation.”

“But...he is… _was_...your padawan” Caleb muttered, looking faintly disturbed.

“Yes” Obi-Wan said cheerfully. “And a dreadful one at that. I am happy to say he makes a much better partner.”

“Doesn't stop you from bossing me around” Anakin mumbled. 

“Some time you will need to come to your decisions, I expect” Yoda commented. “A vote we will take tomorrow. Encourage you all to meditate on this topic, I do. Council dismissed.”

The five Knights left in unison, looking somewhat perturbed...but thoughtful nonetheless. Anakin swept over to the window and Obi-Wan sat down in his chair while Master Uvell spike briefly with Yoda, giving him him a brief nod before departing. Luminara had stood previously, but appeared to hesitate. 

“I'm...glad we're here” she said tentatively. “All of us” she added, glancing at Anakin, who bowed his head. 

“Glad we are as well, Luminara” Yoda said gently. “May the Force be with you.” As she left, the old Grand Master turned his head to look at Obi-Wan. “Masters Uvell and Luminara, great Jedi are. Accepting they are. The others are not. To earn their trust, work hard you must.” He rose and hopped onto his hoverchair. “Old I am, be here forever I will not. A new Grand Master I will appoint.” He looked firmly at Obi-Wan, then even more so at Anakin’s stern profile against the window. “Someone with knowledge of both facets of the Force, I will choose.” Yoda then turned and began to float out of the room. “May the Force be with you.”

Anakin-having not seen Yoda’s tremendously significant gesture-turned from the window and raised an eyebrow at Obi-Wan, who smiled gently. 

“Looks like you might be our new Grand Master, huh?” he said wryly.

The older man chuckled and shook his head.

“I'm afraid not” he said mildly, holding out a hand for Anakin to take. “Yoda wasn’t looking at me when he said that, he was looking at _you_.” He watched in amusement as his former Padawan stopped in his tracks, mouth agape. “Ah, now, if you go around looking like that...I'm afraid he might reconsider.” When no response was forthcoming, he rolled his eyes and put a firm hand on Anakin’s shoulder, steering him out of the Council Chambers. “Come, I've had a terrible sweet tooth for some Cinnamon and Clove tea all day.”

This, of all things, seemed to shake Anakin from his stupor. 

“Because tea is just _overflowing_ with sucrose” was the snarky response. 

“It’s entirely your own fault that you haven't developed a taste for the finer things in life” Obi-Wan sighed, pressing the button for the elevator. 

 

Upon returning to the Temple initially, Yoda had taken up in his old quarters and allowed Anakin and Obi-Wan a choice of whatever available dwellings they might want. They’d eventually settled on quarters overlooking the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It was a single-roomed space, entirely round with a heavy white curtain splitting it cleanly in half; separating the living room from the sleeping area. The floors were your traditional creme coloring, and the walls a warm hickory. A simple but elegant set of table and chairs stained a deep mahogany sat in the center of the first ‘half’ of the room...directly in front of the door. To the left of the entrance was a long cabinet of similar color that contoured to the wall. Upon it was a hot plate for boiling water for tea or caf, a sandalwood box containing all of Obi-Wan’s favorite teas, and a collection of cups and various serving items for guests. Opposite this was a holoscreen set into the wall along with two reed sitting mats. A comm was mounted next to the door and on the opposite a keyed security lock. Behind the white curtain was a large floor level bed with pearlescent grey coverlets. Their few belongings were stored in side tables next to it, and a ‘fresher with a spacious tub and shower was directly to the right. Here, the circular walls gave way to glass; offering a panoramic view of the fountains and gardens. On the left was a wall comprised entirely of triangular inlets for storing personal possessions. Due to the war relieving them of everything but the clothes on their backs and their lightsabers...the only thing that had a place there was Anakin’s wedding ring. It was in the central hub of the inlets, nestled on a thin strip of white lace fabric that-no matter how hard Obi-Wan pressed - he couldn’t get the younger man to divulge its significance. 

Upon entering their quarters, Anakin mumbled something about a bath and disappeared behind the midline gap in the white divider. Obi-Wan shrugged his cloak off and set about fixing a cup of tea. It was all a little bit strange, admittedly. They were settling into a domesticity that was foreign, but not unpleasant. Hunting about for a cup, the Jedi Master paused as a flash of contentment echoed through his psyche. Reaching out through the bond, he shivered slightly as the warmth of the bathwater against Anakin’s skin rippled gently across his sensory receptors. An amused echo filtered back across the Bond, along with a not-so-subtle invitation to come join him. It was almost compulsory that he set his tea down and began to comply, but the thought of wasting a cup of his precious herbs had Obi-Wan firmly grasping the mug once more and stubbornly telling himself he mustn't be so reckless. 

_”So stubborn…”_

He chuckled, somewhat exasperatedly, and took the time to finish his tea. By the time he'd washed his cup and cleared away what little dusting of cinnamon that was on the surface of their table, the Bond was vibrating with Anakin’s impatience. Obi-Wan made a slow path to the ‘fresher, making sure to place his boots just-so by the door and fold his socks into the hamper with infuriating ease. His tunics, pants, and undergarments received the same painstaking treatment, and a new set of clothes were lain neatly at the edge of the bed; on top of which he placed his lightsaber. 

Their ‘fresher was behind a set of dark wooden double doors with long silvery handles. The tub Anakin was currently lounging in was directly to front of the entrance in a wealth of silvery marble, rectangular and set into the floor. It was perhaps four and a half feet deep, quite generous when it came to Temple architectural standards, and the tap was a long vertical slit in the wall that acted as a recyclable water conduit; warmed by heating tubes under a panel to the left of the bath. The shower was sonic, fashioned solely for getting in and out in a perfunctory manner, so if either of them wanted to enjoy a hot wash, they had to use to tub. 

Despite his earlier impatience, you'd have never known Anakin was chomping at the bit for ‘company’ upon entering the room. He lounged on the left side of the bath, one slender arm resting against the side; fingers spilling over the rim….pale, supple, and glimmering with just the slightest hint of moisture. His hair was damp, hanging like a curtain of flax about his face and trailing down to cling to his neck; longer now than it had been during the war. Skin the color of dusky ivory was flushed to a subtle orchid pink, bluish veins like delicate spiderwebs in a fine map of cardiovascular intricacy. Obi-Wan appreciated as he approached, watching as Anakin tipped his head back to bare his throat in what made to be a breathtaking gesture of submission. This was-of course-merely play...an illusion of apathy to mask the immense strength that lay within. And so, as he sank into the water opposite his lover, Obi-Wan carefully acknowledged that he could wait…’till the tension humming across their Bond broke into the explosion of passion he knew that Anakin was barely reigning in. 

He didn't have to wait long.

In one long fluid movement, the body across from him moved towards him; fingers grasping his waist as Anakin settled in his lap; one knee on either side as he lowered his head ‘till their faces were but inches apart. It was here, abruptly, that the younger man stilled...soft breath washing over his lips as blue eyes stared into his; a mixture of carefully tethered heat and surprising patience. They remained so for a moment, paused in a single timespace for what seemed longer than it actually was. Obi-Wan was acutely aware of the lithe form above him, of the solid-muscled thighs that squeezed his waist...the firm grip on his shoulders. The tip of Anakin’s erection brushed against his chest...already aroused...already anticipatory...but somehow restrained. Then...open palms began a slow exploration; flat and warm across his collarbone; rubbing in wide arcs as they descended lower. Obi-Wan’s breath hitched involuntarily as dextrous fingers grazed his chest, pausing to circle slowly before returning to his shoulders.The slow burn beginning between them was quickly building to a blaze; and he could do little but breath raggedly as Anakin stroked his hair, his arousal nudging the soft furl of his entrance, dragging against the heated opening as he did his best to remain still. 

When they kissed, it was because Obi-Wan couldn't resist the beckon of his mouth anymore. Anakin had made no move to initiate, but his lips subtly darkened with arousal and there really wasn't anything Obi-Wan wanted more than to suck on them. A soft moan threaded its way between them, issuing from deep within as their tongues tangled. Giving in to what promised to be nothing but a rough, lust-ridden tumble, Obi-Wan kissed Anakin hard; rising slightly to chase his lips as he pulled away from the sudden onslaught only to return with equal passion. The hands that had ever-so-gently massaged his shoulder formed a near-punishing grip, squeezing flesh against flesh as the younger man bucked his hips. His own hand traveled to squeeze Anakin’s backside, parting him ever so slightly so he could rub a finger against his opening, reveling in the hungry groan he received in response. 

It was rare that they did this; lost themselves in nothing but instinct; in the passionate slide of form against form with no shadow of restraint. It wasn't exactly romantic, but there were times when neither could reconcile through temperance alone. Anakin had always been wildly passionate, and Qui-Gon had once deemed Obi-Wan too dangerous to train due to his perceived volatility. So it was through passion, acknowledging love but embracing desire that they fulfilled that balance...in the Bond and in their own bodies. Obi-Wan’s lips left Anakin’s to dip downwards, placing his tongue flat over a nipple before sucking gently, a flutter of amused affection running between them when his former padawan shivered. The sensation of metal on flesh had been slightly jarring at first. He reflected distractedly on this as Anakin’s mechno hand-free of its leather restraints-curled bracingly over one of his biceps. The younger man was deeply self-conscious of it, something Obi-Wan had only realized when he noticed that Anakin rarely took his glove off; even while asleep. It was only out of necessity that he was privy to it now, as leather tended to shrink when exposed to excess moisture. The metal was temperate, heated like flesh and yet so unlike it...impossibly strong and breathtakingly intimate. Anakin never touched below the waist with it, and perhaps it was this that reassured him that some small part of his lover was humble, prone to acknowledge his flaws and incredibly sensitive. That wasn't to say that Obi-Wan hadn't known this before, but seeing it...in the way Anakin touched with such reverent gentleness, eyelids flickering as he monitored the pressure sensors in case he was pressing too hard...it was sobering. 

_”Ahh..”_

Adulent...really. That lilt of a husky voice, ragged with need and filling the space of the ‘fresher. Obi-Wan whispered something nonsensical against the soft skin of Anakin’s belly, mouthing against damp flesh as an ardent arch of back was his reward, his hands gripping virile sides. Anakin’s organic hand rose to tangle in his hair, bringing him back up for a deep, searching kiss. The Bond was a steady heartbeat between them; heavy and shot through with coalesced emotions...like a drumbeat in the soul. Obi-Wan shivered and jerked involuntarily as Anakin dipped his hips; forcing them closer to each other...to the slide of skin against skin, the water around them lapping its cadence in sync to their movements. A long, lean finger traced the inside of his thigh, pausing to press against the surface with several digits; till the red blush of an imprint rose to surface...moving on. As a dextrous tongue laved his, Obi-Wan tilted his head and nipped teasingly, fingers fumbling over the edge of the tub to find the lubricant.

It wouldn't be long now.

Anakin’s body was not subtle in its cues for more. He opened to lovemaking like a flower in the sun, cerulean eyes hot and heavy-lidded....mouth open in supplication as he twisted his hips. When Obi-Wan let a single slick digit tease against his entrance, the groan that was ripped from him seemed to come from the depths of his being. Even as a head full of golden waves lowered itself to suck at his neck, Obi-Wan could feel his consent through the Bond. Anakin’s mechno-hand clenched reflexively at his back-hard enough to bruise-before hastily letting go. Ignoring the mild discomfort, the older man busied his other hand with teasing Anakin’s length, sliding with firm, sure strokes from base to tip; feeling the prurient rush of pre-come against the pad of his thumb. In-out….up-down…’till one finger became two...two and that soft, slick entrance was clenching around him...Anakin’s hips working to push him in further. 

_”Ohh..”_

Three and and he struck his prostate with unerring precision...forced to hold on as Anakin shuddered and sought more instinctively. The need that had been building on his side of the Bond was now and all-out babble of _’please’_ and _’more’_ ; searing across his psyche even as his fingers were pushed away and a trembling hand grabbed his aching arousal...fumbling to press against Anakin’s entrance as both sucked in an anticipatory breath. 

The first slide was always the most difficult.

No matter how many times they indulged in each others' bodies, Anakin remained almost painfully tight….heated silk surrounding him in desirous confinement. Obi-Wan bit his lip hard, tasted the coppery tang of blood as his former padawan drew in a ragged breath, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his neck...a subtle shade of dusky rose. Teeth sank into the apex of shoulder and collar, organic hand rising once more to grip his hair. Obi-Wan pulled him away so he could watch his expression; brows pulled tight as a nervous tongue fluttered over the slightly parted coral of his lips. After a few moments, Anakin reached across the Bond to signal he was ready, wrapping their psyches together in a multicolored blaze as Obi-Wan pulled back and thrust deep, lightly dragging his nails down the the slope of Anakin’s spine as he did so. Both of them groaned, his exhalation of pleasure choked and ragged whilst his partner’s was breathy...broken. Cerulean irises nearly disappeared as onyx pupils widened with arousal and he bent his head absentmindedly, drawing a nipple into his mouth as Anakin began to work his hips. 

It was a dance.

Like the slow ebb and pull of the tide; froth rising to meet shore as the water from the bath heated their skin; as Anakin began to vocalize in a thick, mewling and distracted tone...nonsense painted with a heavy tongue against Obi-Wan’s neck as he arched mindlessly before grinding downwards, hunched over and distracted as instinct took over for finesse. Those dextrous fingers let go of his hair to wrap ardently about his shoulders, lips meeting mindlessly; a kiss that was broken by a loud groan as Obi-Wan reached down to stroke him whilst simultaneously hitting his prostate. Harder, faster, and the throbs of pleasure thrown at him through the Bond were almost more than he could bear...Anakin clenching hard as his impending orgasm rushed toward him with staggering intensity.

“Can’t... ” he mumbled. “Obi-Wa- _ngh!_ -g-gonna- _f-fuck!_ -cumming-!”

Obi-Wan gasped as Anakin climaxed, burying himself deep and following him over the edge as his mind exploded. Their was the tell-tale wetness between them...sliding against his stomach as he came hard, thrusting reflexively as those wicked muscles fluttered around him; starting strong then becoming more spaced out as his partner came down from his orgasmic high. Anakin’s head lolled against his shoulder, mouth sucking mindlessly as his movements slowed and then finally stopped, both of them trembling. For a few moments, each was externally still..their minds entwined tightly as they conveyed their gratitude and affection without speaking. Then, Anakin lifted his head, that familiar mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“So much for getting clean” he murmured, lowering his head for a kiss.

“Oh, you're hopeless” Obi-Wan grumbled…

….But he tilted his chin up to capture his lips all the   
same.

____________________________________________________________________

**Six Months Hence**

“Pass me that wrench, would you?”

Obi-Wan blinked and looked up from his book to where Anakin was kneeling on the floor fiddling with some poor unsuspecting droid. He was-predictably-rather greasy-looking...something that Obi-Wan had permanently despaired of curing him of. You could take a mechanic out of a junk-shop, but you couldn't take the junk-shop out of the mechanic. Sighing resignedly, the older man set his padd to the side and wandered over to Anakin’s toolkit. 

“What's this one do?” he queried, finding the requested item and kneeling to join the younger man in front of the droid. 

Anakin accepted the tool and sat back, chewing his lip.

“Haven't decided yet” he replied, running a hand through his hair and leaving dark stripes where oil met follicle. “Got any ideas?”

“As long as it doesn't teach the Younglings to sing filthy pub songs I'll be happy as a lark.”

Anakin caught his eye and grinned, raising a sardonic brow.

“Awe, but you liked that one, I just know it. After you broke it in half with your lightsaber I caught you three halls down laughing your head off.”

“Hysteria” Obi-Wan said promptly. “An old man like me can't take your antics.”

“Oh, hmm. I think it was more to do with Padawan Wielum singing _’she doesn't bend over for any old thug, if she shucks off her skivvies, it’ll be for a Dug!’_ ”

“And _that_ is why Luminara doesn't let you in the creche anymore” the older Jedi said dryly. “You’re an utter menace. No Youngling should know the word _‘skivvy.’_

“Yea well now they all do.”

“Ah, the privileges of knowing the Chosen One.”

The buzzer to their quarters interrupted what was sure to become a very entertaining bantering session, and Anakin rose to answer it. Obi-Wan turned to glare suspiciously at the half-assembled droid, which beeped innocently. He was unprepared for the rush of exhilarated shock that rushed across the Bond, and very nearly knocked himself out on the coffee table hastening to get up. Anakin was standing by the open door, at the entrance of which was Bail Organa, looking appropriately pleased as punch. On each arm was a bright-eyed looking baby, staring at their father with incredible intensity. The man in question appeared to be at a loss for words, choosing instead to beam at each child in turn, his eyes suspiciously damp. 

“You have no idea what kind of hoops I've had to jump through to get these little ones here” Bail commented, pushing past a gobsmacked Anakin to pace into the room. “I hope I'm not imposing.”

“Of course not” Obi-Wan replied, stepping forward and smiling at Luke, who was eyeing him rather desperately. “It's good to see you Bail.”

_“Damin!”_ Luke yelped. 

Both men blinked, stunned into silence. Still by the door, Anakin’s quiet chuckle floated over to them. 

“That’s right” the young man said softly, leaving his position and coming to take Luke, whom Bail handed over reflexively. _”Ur-Damin Obi-Wan._

Leia, seemingly positively enraged that Luke was the first to receive attention from their father, was the next to speak.”

_”DADA!”_

This time, it was Anakin who froze up, then subsequently looked like he might bawl. 

“How is the reconstruction going?” Bail asked hastily, seeming to want to avoid any melodramatics. 

“All approved” Obi-Wan replied, still keeping a careful eye on his former padawan, who looked about ready to explode with happiness. “It’s been a ride...but it feels like we're finally getting there.” He paused. “Anakin, why don't you take the twins into the bedroom and play with them while I catch up with Bail?” 

The smile that he received in response was positively glowing, and when Anakin moved to pass him so he could take Leia, he leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“I love you.”

Obi-Wan smiled and cupped his cheek.

“I love you too, dear one.”

_”Daa-min”_ Luke grumbled, stretching his hands out emphatically.

Anakin chuckled.

“Looks like he wants to stay with you” he commented, handing him over.

“Well, I'm flattered” Obi-Wan crooned, chuckling as his beard was promptly assaulted. 

And as the love of his life disappeared into the bedroom with his daughter, he couldn't imagine being anywhere but here. The Galaxy was vast beyond measure, and the Universe beyond it even more so. There would be others to fill Sidious’ shoes, rising to the promise of absolute power like a predator to flesh; but they were removed from that. It was here that his heart was, here that he'd found his purpose in life. Without a doubt...they belonged here, with the Force to bolster their path...and the glimmering lights of the city on an effervescent horizon...magnificent and tumbling onwards under an endless sky...

….under the four moons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a ride. 
> 
> I actually intended to post this on Christmas, but Santa comes early occasionally y'know. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all that have followed this story to its end. Your support has been incredible...and I am humbled by your enthusiasm. I really couldn't have done this without each and every one of you. This was never going to be a long fic, and I do have another Obikin concept in the making, possibly a darkside theme...but I have to figure out how to make it somewhat original. I know some of you have your own Obikin fics in progress, and trust me, I am reading and loving them all! Once I finish Unconscious Design, I will probably sit back for a bit and I totally absolutely expect you all to do some writing :3 Feel free to shoot me the links to your fics because I seriously never have enough to read. Thank you again, much love and a very very Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to you all.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's Note:**
> 
> So, I've had this plot bunny running around my head for a long time, and I decided to let chapter one out in order to gauge the reception. I really, really need your feedback on this. Please let me know what you think of the plot, and if you want it to continue.


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